


Thursday Night

by Gemonie03



Category: Tiger and Bunny
Genre: Awkward Romance, Blow Jobs, F/M, First Time, Heterosexual Sex, I just thought it would be funny if Barnaby met the love of his life in a super normal way, Major Character Injury, POV Second Person, Random Thing I Thought Of..., Reader-Insert, papa tiger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 02:51:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15854721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemonie03/pseuds/Gemonie03
Summary: You never really thought that you would meet a hero in the Super Market, but sometimes the unexpected happens.





	Thursday Night

Moving to a new city had all sorts of exciting things to discover. There were of course the night life, the bar scene, the parks, and museums and all of the new restaurants to try, but your favorite thing about moving to a new city was, of course, learning about that city’s Heroes. And boy did Sternbild deliver in that department! There were seven, yes, SEVEN heroes who called the city of Sternbild home. In your previous city, the numbers were significantly lower, actually, there was only really one, and he, well, he was more of a vigilante and from what you heard he didn’t actually  _ have  _ NEXT abilities… just a whole pile of money and a butler willing to put together some absolutely ridiculous things from IKEA’s Superhero Gadget Department. To actually get to live in a city with REAL NEXT powered superheros was probably the coolest thing you had ever done in your relatively short adult life, even if you were kind  _ forced  _ to move there for your job.

 

It doesn’t take you long to delve into the world of Sternbild’s superheroes. You’re hesitant to pick a favorite, as so many of them are so awesome!-- But you’re quickly leaning towards Fire Emblem or maybe Dragon Kid, after all, elemental powers are totally awesome and Dragon Kid’s kungfu is super kick ass! Though, Sky High is super noble, totally like a knight of the round table, and Blue Rose’s ice powers are totally OP and she’s a phenomenal singer, not to mention Origami Cyclone’s really neat shape shifting ability, you briefly wonder if he ever worked as a spy (maybe this was his retirement gig and that’s why he’s only ever really seen photo bombing?). You’re not really sure what Rock Bison’s power  _ is _ exactly, but you know the guy is crazy strong, though you question his choice in sponsors as he’s kind of a cow and maybe Kronos Foods isn’t the  _ best _ sponsor a cow could have chosen given what they sell… And then there’s Wild Tiger, The Crusher for Justice, you’re not super convinced that he was actually once King of Heros, but he seems like the Hero Dad, so maybe, like when you were in high school he was cool or something. Sternbild  _ definitely  _ has some awesome heros!

 

Of course there was one you just weren’t really fond of. You have a hard time hopping on the Barnaby Brooks Jr. train. You had moved shortly before he came on the scene and  _ all  _ of your new friends and coworkers were absolutely obsessed with him. He was everywhere you looked; all the billboards, all the magazines, every tv station. . . EVERYWHERE! You just don’t like him. You get this kind of arrogant, fake, haughty vibe from the image he projects to the public and you actually feel a little bit bad for Wild Tiger, even if you notice that he’s no longer 2nd to last in the rankings. 

 

Then the Jake Martinez thing happens. Suddenly you understand the vibes you get off of Barnaby Brooks Jr. They’re the same ones you always got off that creepy guy from your previous town… what was his name…. OH! BATMAN! That’s right, Barnaby Brooks Jr. is basically an angsty, teenage, effemenant Batman! That makes you laugh a little bit, even though you’re kind of on a bridge surrounded by mech suits controlled by Mad Bears and Wild Tiger  _ may  _ have just saved your life and you  _ may  _ feel a little bad about Barnaby actually being an orphan and would really like  _ someone  _ to stop this Jake guy before he totally destroys the city.

 

So, maybe, after that Barnaby Brooks Jr. wins a  _ few _ points with you, since it’s kind of because of him that you’re not dead. However, you still find the haughty, holier than thou persona he puts on for the public off putting and maybe, just maybe, that’s why you’re a little more than wary when you stumble upon  the man standing in the middle of the rice aisle in your favorite little organic grocery store. There he is, in all his red leather, honey blonde glory, glaring at two bags of rice as though one of them may have assisted Jake in killing his parents.

 

For a moment you consider just turning around and walking away; after all you don’t think he’s spotted you, even with the shopping cart, and you could totally make a clean break for it, but then you take a really good look at him and you start to maybe think that he isn’t glaring at the rice so much as trying to understand it. And then it dawns on you that maybe he can’t read it, the text on those bags is pretty small after all, and his glasses are waaaaaay far down on the bridge of his nose as he squints to try and read the small print. 

 

You sigh. 

 

Your mother always told you, you were too soft, and it’s that softness that has you clearing your throat and approaching Mr. Brooks slowly, like he’s a wounded animal or something maybe a little dangerous. 

 

“Umm, can I help you with that?” you ask hesitantly as you make your approach.

 

He spares you a glance before looking back down at the two bags of rice in his hands. He makes a humming noise in his throat before offering you one of the bags of rice across the whole length of your cart. 

 

“Can you tell if this is pre-washed or not? I can’t seem to find it on the label anywhere…” he asks before trailing off as he inspects the other bag of rice more thoroughly. 

 

You take the bag from him, having to lean ever so slightly more over the cart than you would have liked to reach the bag, and quickly check over the packaging. In ittty-bitty little print on the back of the bag at the very, very bottom there’s a line that says the rice is, in fact, not washed. You walk around your shopping cart and point out the microscopic print to him. He leans a little over your shoulder as you lift the bag to his face and you feel the slight brush of his hair against your cheek before he pulls away just to hand you the second bag of rice. 

 

“I’m sorry to ask this of you, I guess I need to go get my eyes checked again,” he sighs as he lifts his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose. 

 

“It’s no problem, I offered after all,” you let a small smile grace your lips as you watch him from the corner of your eye as you search the second bag. 

 

You do have to admit that he is  _ a little  _ good looking up close, and that maybe he’s not as photoshopped as you once thought he was. You also, kind of,  _ maybe _ appreciate that he smells a bit like your favorite shampoo mixed with expensive leather and cologne. 

 

“Ah ha!” You announce as you locate on the packaging the words ‘pre-washed rice’ and feel a little triumphant as he looks over your shoulder before taking the rice from you and gently placing it in the small grey basket he has hanging from his elbow. 

 

“Thanks, I really appreciate the help,” he gives you one of his fake interview smiles, you know, the ones that make girls weak in the knees, before heading off down the aisle.

 

You frown. That wasn’t as horrible as you had assumed it was going to be, after all you had feared he’d be condescending at best and a total asshole at worse. The fact that he landed somewhere between distracted and actually grateful kind of made your stomach knot a little bit. The fact that he left with one of those cheesy, fake, celebrity smiles you absolutely loathe, surprisingly, only made you want to hit him a  _ little  _ bit. All in all you consider it a pretty successful encounter, as far as unwanted celebrity encounters go, and only slightly wish you’d had the chance to ask if Fire Emblem was really as fabulous in real life as they seemed on television.

 

You huff a laugh to yourself. Oh, well, maybe next time. 

 

You hadn’t expected ‘next time’ to be exactly one week later, at pretty much the exact same time, in the exact same organic grocery store. This time, you’re minding your own business in the spices aisle, just leaning against your shopping cart as you slowly peruse the shelves, as he squeezes past you. He quickly scans the shelves, takes one long legged stride to the ‘G’ section and grabs a container off one of the middle shelves. You notice that this time he doesn’t have one of the grey baskets with him, but he does have a plastic produce bag with a couple of fresh ginger roots inside, and you can maybe make out that the bottle he’s holding might be ground ginger. You act like you’re continuing to browse the shelves in front of you while you watch as, yet again, his glasses slip to the very tip of his nose as he tries to read the tiny print on the glass bottle he’s holding. You watch in mild interest as his nose scrunches up and he squints suspiciously at the bottle.

 

You sigh yet again.

 

“Umm, do you need some help with that?” you find yourself asking again.

 

He once again spares you a glance before turning back to look at the bottle again only to snap his head back around to look at you dead in the eyes. 

 

“Well, this is embarrassing,” he half laughs and half sighs as he hands out the bottled ginger to you, once again across the widest part of your shopping cart. 

 

You frown a little as you, once again, find yourself leaning over the handle of the cart to take the proffered spice container.

 

“Does the bottle have a conversion chart for fresh to ground on it? The last bottle of something I bought from this brand did,” he asks as you scan the bottle.

 

“It does,” you confirm, “it says one teaspoon of fresh for ⅛th of a teaspoon ground”. 

 

You hand the little bottle back and he carefully replaces it on the shelf before turning to you again. 

 

“Thanks again, sorry to have bothered you,” he quickly says before turning and striding away towards the check out. 

 

“Huh,” you sigh before turning your attention back to the spices next to you. 

 

***********

 

And so you settle into a sort of routine. Thursday evenings you get off work, change into your yoga pants and then head into the small organic market to fill your pantry for another week. Every time you go you just happen to run into Barnaby Brooks Jr. giving some poor food item the evil eye. One week it's glaring at cabbages, the next scrutinizing tubes of miso paste, and there's even one day where you're pretty sure he's having an argument with the frozen shrimp. Every single time you step in and offer your assistance and every time he willingly accepts it. 

 

Around week 5, or maybe 6, he inquires about your name. You smile a bit as you hand him back the frozen peas he's asked you to inspect before answering. 

 

“I'm *your name*. Nice you meet you,” you give him a soft smile, kind of expecting him to introduce himself as well. 

 

Instead you hear a non-committal huh noise and he goes back to looking at the peas. Slightly irritated, you huff. 

 

“It's a pleasure to meet you *name*, I'm Barnaby Brooks Jr. and I would really like to thank you for all the help you've given me,” you say in a slightly mocking tone. 

 

He looks at you, a little taken aback, before giving you what you think might be a real smile. 

 

“I'm sorry, that was quite rude of me, wasn't it?” he laughs a little at his own expense. 

 

You smile back. 

 

“Only a little, but I suppose I'll find it in my heart to forgive you,” you fake exasperation before laughing a little yourself. 

 

And then he smiles and he's walking away. 

 

***************

 

After that particular experience things become a little different. When you get to the market he's actively waiting for you at the front. He tries to be coy about it, but how many times has he looked at the fruit on display and not actually purchased any? Then, once you get your basket and make your presence known, he follows slightly behind you as you shop. Not close enough to be a bother, but close enough that if anyone one saw the two of you they would probably think you were there together. Most of the time the two of you shop in companionable silence, but every once in awhile he'll say something or you'll ask him to grab something from a higher shelf. Once your items are safely in your basket you always turn to him and ask him if there's something he needs, and of course there is, so the two of you track it down before checking out and heading your separate ways. 

 

Things go on like this for months. You can't remember the last time you shopped alone and, even if it is a little reluctantly, you come to realize that you really enjoy his company. You don't feel like he's that celebrity your cubicle mate has half naked pictures of all over her wall. Instead you kind of start to see him as maybe the first real friend you've made since moving to Sternbild almost two years earlier and that thought makes you huff a smirked laugh into your office coffee. You actually find yourself looking forward to Thursday nights and this week is no exception 

 

Except, of course, your boss walks in an hour before you're scheduled to leave and dumps a massive pile of paperwork on your desk. You blink stupidly at it for a moment before he grumbles something about “on his desk by tomorrow morning” and leaves. 

 

By the time you leave your desk, you're already an hour late for your shopping date and you're irrationally angry about it. You decide to head to the market straight from your office, hoping against hope that, just maybe, Barnaby was still there interrogating the produce. You probably break more than a few traffic laws as you speed to the silver stage, but you can't help it. You feel a little bit guilty about being late, which you know is silly since a.) it wasn't your fault and b.) you didn't actually agree to anything and this whole thing was more an accident of coincidence than anything else. But the guilt is there nonetheless and you really hope he's there so you can apologize and continue the way things have been. 

 

When you finally reach the store and get a place to park you notice, quite quickly, that Barnaby is in fact still there. That causes you to breathe a sigh of relief. However, he's not alone. He's standing outside the store, in his usual blonde glory, talking to a group of what seem to be high school girls, judging by the uniforms. They're casually touching him and laughing as he signs things and poses for selfies. He's giving them that fake smile and they're eating it up as they try to flirt, but just break into childish giggles. 

 

Your irrational anger stirs. You see one girl playfully touch his arm and you bristle like an angry cat. Another leans in and brushes a bit of hair from his cheek and you have to actively stop yourself from storming up to them and snatching her hand away from his face. You know this is silly, he's a celebrity after all, and there's nothing between you, but your already poor mood certainly decreases as he kisses the back of a third girl's hand. 

 

Willing yourself into composure takes a little longer than you really wish it did, but finally you feel confident enough to approach the group and make your presence known. You make your way to the small group, trying to ignore the way your work shoes pinch your toes, and offer a small wave to Barnaby. 

 

“Hey, Brooks,” you cheerfully greet him as you slip past the group and into the market.

 

There. You feel a little accomplished as you place your purse in a cart and start to head into the store. You didn't even cause a scene. 

 

A moment later you feel a familiar presence at your side as you're walking through the canned soup aisle and you're a little bit pleased knowing that he probably waved the girls off as soon as he recognized you. He doesn't say anything at first, just absentmindedly looks at soup himself, until you turn to ask him if he could reach the chicken tortilla on the top self for you. 

 

“You were late,” he says as he hands you a couple of cans. 

 

You frown. 

 

“Yeah, sorry, my boss can be a jerk sometimes,” you carefully place the cans in your cart before turning to face him. “You didn't have to wait for me, you know, I don't  _ need _ a hero to escort me while I shop,” you try to laugh, but it's half hearted and you're pretty sure the look he's giving you is one of slight pain. 

 

“It's okay though, that I waited, I mean,” it comes out as half a question and half a concern and it almost breaks your heart to see the slight fear that he may have overstepped some sort of unspoken boundary between the two of you, flash through his eyes. 

 

You smile then. Like really smile, because as weird as whatever is going on here is, you're really happy that it seems to be as important to him as it is to you. 

 

“Of course,” you respond, trying not to betray too much of the giddiness that's swelling in your chest, “After all who else is going to help you navigate the world of tiny food labels?” 

 

His face goes blank for a moment before a tiny smirk crosses his lips and he lifts his hand to adjust his glasses, which you're sure is really him trying to cover the amusement and relief that you glimpse washing over his face. Suddenly, his normal mask of nonchalance is back into place and he takes a few steps away from you and down the aisle. You smirk and follow behind, grabbing things you normally purchase as he leads you down the aisles the same way you normally lead him. When the last item is placed in your cart he turns to you expectantly and you give him a small smile before asking the usual question. 

 

“Alright, Mr. Brooks, what is it tonight?”

 

He swallows and then averts his gaze before clearing his throat. 

 

“Actually, I was wondering if you would be interested in joining me for dinner?” he pushes up his glasses again and you're almost certain that he's blushing, just a tiny bit. 

 

It takes you a moment longer than it should for the question to sink in and you're sure you probably look like an idiot with your eyes wide and mouth open. But just as he looks like he's about to retract the offer you finally recover enough to respond. 

 

“Umm, alright, but I'm still in my work clothes and I don't get paid till next week so it can't be anywhere extravagant,” you finally mumble out. 

 

He looks you up and down for a second, probably just realizing that the white button up blouse and pencil skirt you're wearing isn't your usual yoga pants and oversized t-shirt. 

 

“Actually, I was thinking I could make you dinner at my place. Of course, it is kind of late and those shoes don't look very comfortable, so I would understand if you would like to take a rain check,” he kind of mumbles the last bit and you're certain he's a little disappointed to be saying it. 

 

You look down at your shoes and frown. They are uncomfortable, as heels, even small ones, tend to be, but you don't see that as the deciding factor as to whether or not you agree to go to his house. After all, even if you have technically known him for months now it's not as though you really  _ know _ him. And you're quite certain that if this were anyone one else you would have already said no. Against your better judgment, and the fact that you do have work at 9am tomorrow, you look at him and sigh. 

 

“O-okay,” you stutter out, smooth, “Ummm, I drove though so, I don't really want to leave my car here, but I could take it home and then catch a bus back?” 

 

He looks thoughtful for a moment. 

 

“Well, I just walked from work, so if you don't mind we could take your car and then you could just drive home when we’re done,” he looks slightly hopeful at this suggestion. 

 

You nod your ascent and the two of you go to the checkout counter. Unlike usual, he grabs your bags and gestures for you to take the lead to your car. You fumble with your keys before unlocking your trunk and having him place the groceries inside. After he closes the trunk door he jogs to the driver's side and opens your door for you to slide in. It seems silly and super old fashioned but it kind of makes your heart race and your cheeks flush and you're glad that it's mid September and the sun has already set so he can't see the probably stupid look on your face as you thank him. 

 

The ride is uneventful, though you've never really been to the Gold Stage before and the buildings that scream money make you a little uncomfortable as you drive past. He directs you to one of the taller, nicer looking ones and tells you where to park so you won't get towed. The two of you walk side by side to the building, but he makes sure to open every door for you and even takes your hand as you step into the elevator. The touch is brief, and totally just meant to be helpful, but you swoon a little on the inside. You take the elevator up to the ninth floor and he guides you to one of three doors, types in his door code, and then invites you inside. 

 

You're not sure what you really expected but in your mind’s eye there was definitely more furniture. Maybe even some framed mementos on the walls, but instead you're greeted by a single chair and side table and stark, white walls. He heads to what you assume is the kitchen and you follow him lagging a little bit behind as you take in your lack of surroundings. The kitchen, you note, is a little less sterile, as there's a small built in breakfast nook on one side, but the stainless steel island kind of makes the room feel like a restaurant instead of a home. You take a seat in the bench of the nook and turn to see him rifling around in his fridge. 

 

“So,” you start as you notice the clock on the wall click to 8:30pm, “what are we having?” 

 

He sets up a rice cooker and pours in a measured amount of grains and water before grabbing a frying pan to start the vegetables. 

 

“Well, I've been learning how to make shrimp fried rice and miso soup for Wild Tiger and I thought that, since you've been so helpful, I would let you try it first,” he says all this as he continues to cook. 

 

You can tell he's done this a million times as everything he does is incredibly graceful and well practiced. You can't help but follow the strong muscles in his arms as he moves the pan to keep everything searing evenly. It's really the first time you've ever seen him not in his leather jacket and the tight, black v-neck shirt he's wearing does nothing to hide how incredibly strong his back and shoulder muscles are. You contemplate, for just a moment, what it would be like to run your hands down his arms and lean your forehead against that back before what he said clicks with you. 

 

“Wild Tiger likes fried rice?” you ask, only a moment later than was probably normal. 

 

“I think before we met that's  _ all _ he ate,” he replies as he goes to grab the shrimp from the fridge. 

 

You laugh a little at that. 

 

“It's nice that you guys look after each other. I kind of always wondered how the outside dynamics of the heroes worked. I mean you're all competitors, but you're forced to work so closely that I figured there had to be at least a sense of comradery between you,” you respond as you watch his back. 

 

He tenses for a moment, before stirring what you assume to be the miso soup. 

 

“Well, it's getting better,”he replies with a shrug. 

 

A moment later he places a bowl and a plate of rice in front of you and then grabs the same for himself. It looks great and smells absolutely amazing and suddenly your stomach rumbles, reminding you that your lunch of coffee had been hours ago and normally by now you've microwaved something and are settling into bed for some TV. 

 

“Would you like something to drink? I've got water, sports drink, or wine,” he asks as he looks through the contents of his fridge for more options. 

 

“Um, whatever you're having is fine,” you reply, holding yourself back from devouring your food in a very unlady like fashion. 

 

He pulls out a bottle of incredibly expensive looking wine from the wine rack by the fridge, and opens it with a pop. He pours two generous glasses and sets them down before taking the seat across from you. The two of you look at each other for a moment before he picks up his spoon and takes a bite. You do the same and instantly you're struck by the fact that this may be the best food you've ever eaten. You really have to hold yourself back from making a fool of yourself at this point. 

 

“I thought that maybe you weren't really into hero stuff,” he finally says after a few moments of silent chewing. 

 

“Oh, why's that?” you ask as you take up your wine glass in between bites. You sniff the contents before sipping and suddenly you've decided that Barnaby Brooks Jr. should start picking out all of your food and drinks from now on. 

 

He shrugs. 

 

“Well, you've never asked me about it and, frankly, I wasn't even sure you knew who I was until I asked you your name and you responded the way you did,” he takes a look at you before taking another bite. 

 

You smirk at the memory. 

 

“Honestly, I was worried you would think I was some kind of stalker. I mean we kept meeting every single Thursday at the same time in the same place. I didn't want you to get the wrong idea,” you respond with a sigh. 

 

He actually huffs a laugh at that causing you to look at him quizzically. 

 

“It's funny you should mention that,” he takes a sip of wine, “After about our fourth meeting I asked the store clerk if maybe you had just started coming there every week to catch me, because, honestly, I thought maybe you were a quiet fan who found out where I liked to shop and decided to start frequenting there to try and see me. The clerk laughed in my face. He then told me that he thought it was the other way round since you had been going there every week since you moved to Sternbild two years earlier and I only really started frequenting the store after the rice incident. He then went on to tell me that he had even contemplated calling the cops to make sure I wasn't harassing you.”

 

You're sure the look of shock on your face is quite comical. After all it's not everyday an honest to God superhero is threatened to have the cops called on them for your safety. 

 

“I'm glad he didn't…. That would have been so embarrassing to have to explain to your bosses why you were arrested,” you finally laugh out. 

 

He  cocks a perfectly groomed eyebrow at you before a smirk crosses his lips and he pushes his food around on his plate. 

 

“To be honest,” you start before you even know what you're really going to say, but the words just kind of leave your lips without permission, “I really started looking forward to shopping day after you started joining me. I mean it was always just something I had to do if I wanted to eat before, but it kind of became my little treat to myself after that.”

 

You can feel your face heat up and you're sure you're as red as a tomato by the time you're finished. You avert your gaze to what's left of your dinner and you try not to care that you practically just confessed to the guy. Just when you're pretty sure you're going to have to make some excuse to leave he finally pipes up.

 

“Me too.”

 

He says it softly so you're not quite sure you heard him correctly but you look up anyway and meet his steady green gaze. 

 

“Actually, after I learned your name, I started getting really excited every time Thursday came about. I started making sure my schedule was clear and hoping that there wouldn't be any hero calls on those days. Wild Tiger started noticing pretty early on and kept trying to get me to do stuff with him on Thursdays and every time I turn him down he starts with the incessant questioning. He actually has all the other heroes concerned about it too. Fire Emblem keeps offering to cuddle me, Rock Bison offered to play wingman to get me laid, and Sky High keeps saying that if something is wrong I can always come over and pet his dog for as long as I need to. The running joke with Wild Tiger is that I have a secret Thursday job as an escort or something….” he sighs as he trails off. 

 

You're shocked, to say the least, and the only intelligent thing you can think to say to his own confession is:

 

“Did you pet the doggy?”

 

He looks at you with that mask of indifference. 

 

“No, I did not, should I have?”

 

“Oh course!” you reply maybe a little too enthusiastic, “When someone offers to let you pet their pupper the answer should always be an emphatic yes!”

 

He laughs and he laughs hard. He laughs so hard you're a little worried he's going to lose his glasses in his food, but the sound is infectious and pretty soon you're laughing too. The two of you sit there and laugh for what feels like forever. By the time you both start to peter out your sides hurt and your eyes are watering, but you don't remember a time when you've been this excited and happy to be in the presence of another person. 

 

He takes a long look at you as you pull yourself back together and you can only hope you don't have mascara running down your face as you wipe at your eyes. It seems that even if you do, he doesn't mind, since the next thing you know he's placing a warm, smooth hand over yours on the table. 

 

“C-can we do this again?” he asks when he finally catches your eyes with his. 

 

“I would love that!” you smile broadly at him. 

 

He squeezes your hand with a smile before releasing you to finish his wine. You follow suit, though your glass has a little more of the liquid in it than his did, before you both stand and he walks you to the door. 

 

“I'm sorry I kept you so late,” he says as he takes both of your hands in his, “I'm sure you have work in the morning.”

 

You look around for a moment to try and find a clock. The digital display on his holo pad reads 11:30pm and your eyes go a little wide as you realize you really have to be at work tomorrow. 

 

“Holy crap is that really the time?” you give him a mildly panicked look to which he just kind of chuckles. 

 

“Yeah, I really am sorry, but I-I'm glad you decided to come,” he brings one of your hands up to his lips and presses a very soft kiss to your knuckles. 

 

“W-we should trade numbers,” you stammer out. 

 

“Right,” he lets go of your hands to fish his phone out of his pocket and you do the same. 

 

Both of you pull up the add new contact screen and then trade phones. Quickly, you tap in your number, but pause at the name blank. With a smirk you enter Thursday Night as your name before saving and then turning the phone back over to its owner who does the same. 

 

“Would you like me to walk you to your car?” he asks once both phones are once again stashed away. 

 

“Um, no thank you, you should be in bed too! I mean if I'm tired maybe a file gets mislabeled, if you're tired, well, who's going to save Wild Tiger?”  

 

He smiles at that and wishes you a good night as the door closes behind you. 

 

****************

 

That night you're so giddy you barely sleep anyway. So it's no wonder that you're completely exhausted the next day. Even your cubicle mate notices and politely tells you that you look like a mess, in a fun way, whatever that means. You give her your best, ‘don't try me today’ look and turn back to your computer. On the bright side, your boss comes out and thanks you for the reports you filed for him the night before and tells you to take a full hour for lunch instead of your usual 30 minutes. And now you think that maybe today won't be so terrible. 

 

The first text comes during the first five minutes of your extended lunch break. You're sipping on what is probably your 6th cup of stagnant, lukewarm office coffee (it's free what are you gonna do?) when you hear more than feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You fish it out and at first the name on the phone doesn't register with your sleep deprived brain. It just says BROOKS in all capital letters and it takes you a minute to realize that BROOKS is probably Barnaby Brooks Jr. But when the realization finally hits you, you practically fall out of your uncomfortable, break room folding chair. 

 

You quickly open the message and instantly cock an eyebrow at it. 

 

_ Good work. _

 

That's all it says. You quickly message back. 

 

_ Good afternoon to you as well Mr. Brooks. I would like to inquire as to what I have done that is so good?  _

 

You put the phone on the table in front of you and settle back to wait. The response comes only seconds later and you warily poke your 4 digit unlock code into the thing before picking it up to read his reply. 

 

_ Tiger went through my phone and noticed your contact name. Now he's convinced I'm doing something uncouth on Thursday evenings.  _

 

You almost fall out of your chair again at that, and you're pretty sure that whoever’s office is connected to the break room wall, probably thinks you're nuts. You quickly tap out your reply. 

 

_ You're welcome. He probably thinks you're a lot more fun now.  _

 

You're dying. You didn't think your little joke would have such interesting consequences, but now you can't stop cackling like a lunatic. 

 

_ He asked me if we needed to have a heart to heart and then started giving me a lecture on safe sex. I have never been so embarrassed in my life. This is absolutely your fault and you're going to pay for it.  _

 

You let out another cackle of laughter as you finish reading that, but quickly reply back:

 

_ Idk I think it sounds like Wild Tiger is at least 40% at fault here for being nosey. But how about dinner on me next week?  _

 

His response doesn't come right away this time and you're a little disappointed. You're majorly disappointed when he doesn't even respond before your break ends and you have to trudge back out to your desk and go back to editing your boss’s meeting notes from that morning. You sigh as you plop back down into your office chair and take a moment to examine one of the practically naked photos of Barnaby that your cubicle mate has taped to the wall. 

 

All those muscles. You've never been with a guy built like that before. Well, in all honesty, you can't really remember how the last person you dated was built, as it had been a while, but you know for sure he didn't look like Barnaby Brooks Jr. In the photo he's wearing an awful red and blue striped speedo and, well, nothing else. He's seated, legs spread, on a red, satin covered something, leaning back with his left elbow resting on a different satin covered something. He looks kind of fierce and maybe a little bored, an expression you've yet to see in real life. You take a moment to admire his shoulders, which you have seen in real life, and decide that, even with a shirt on, real life is better. Your eyes move down to his chest and abs and you kind of wonder if he waxes, or at least did for this particular photoshoot. Then your eyes drop lower and you're suddenly glaring at the striped speedo as though it's done something to wrong you. 

 

Then, suddenly, your cubicle mate is back and making a whole lot of noise as she tries to jam her ridiculously huge purse back into her bottom drawer. You quickly spin around and hope that she didn't see you glaring at the picture on her wall. The last thing you need is her prodding you to tell her what's wrong. She'd never believe you anyway. Okay, so maybe she would be on board with the Barnaby having been naked for that speedo photoshoot thing, but probably not for the same reasons you are, and there's definitely no way she would believe that you had dinner with him last night and now are, maybe, on the verge of possibly dating him. After all you're boring and kind of plain and he's BARNABY BROOKS JR. She would never believe you. No one would, honestly, and you really don't think you mind. So, you get back to work and try not to fall asleep on your keyboard. 

 

Around 4:30pm you get another text. You slowly eye your cubicle mate and then grab for your phone. You see the ID screen flash BROOKS and you have to take a deep breath so as not to giggle when you open the message. 

 

_ You are  _ definitely  _ paying for dinner next week. I have been at the training center for a whole 10 minutes and already I was high fived and winked at by Rock Bison, and asked by Fire Emblem as to whether or not you're cuter than them.  _

 

You snort, trying to contain your laughter. Wild Tiger moves fast. You're grinning so hard your face hurts as you type out your next reply. 

 

_ What did you tell Fire Emblem? I mean I'm pretty cute but Idk if I beat them. They're fabulous after all.  _

 

You try to focus on work, you really do, after all you only have a half hour before you're free, but it's so painful to not watch your phone. When it lights up again you grab it immediately and check his new message. 

 

_ Of course I told them you were cuter. Fire Emblem isn't really my type. You'll never believe what just happened.  _

 

You get a little flustered at that one. Does that mean  _ you  _ are his type? Of course you don't have time to dwell on that right now, you must know what has happened that you won't believe. 

 

_ Something more exciting than chasing bad guys?  _

 

Your work is totally forgotten, half finished documents sitting open on your computer are totally ignored as you wait for his response. 

 

_ Sky High has his dog with him today.  _

 

That's not quite what you were expecting, but it does excite you a little tiny bit. 

 

_ Are you going to pet the pupper?  _

 

You send back, only mildly jealous that none of your coworkers ever bring in their pets. You would love to snuggle a pup and definitely consider volunteering at an animal shelter this weekend to make up for it. You're pulled from your thoughts of how ethical it would be to volunteer just so you can reap the benefits of petting the animals by his next message. 

 

_ I don't know if this creature is what one would refer to as a  _ pupper _ so much as a dog…  _

 

You frown. What is wrong with this man? Just go pet the damn dog and then tell me about it!-- Is what you want to say, but instead go for:

 

_ I want a picture of you petting the dog. I need photographic evidence so that I can live vicariously through your dog petting experiences.  _

 

You can almost feel the sigh he's bound to heave after reading your message. He doesn't respond again for a bit, long enough for you to pack up your stuff and leave the office, but the moment you get into your car you hear the vibration and fish out your phone. 

 

You are not disappointed. In the new message there is a rather blurry selfie of Barnaby sitting on the floor with a humongous Golden Retriever in his lap. It looks like the dog decided to lick him just as he snapped the photo, judging by the way his head is snapped back and away and the dog's muzzle is pointed towards him, tongue out.

 

You can't contain your laughter at the image. You're nearly in tears as you try to type something back. All you manage is:

 

_ Asdfghjklagsjflieirbdksjx _

 

You get a new message almost as soon as you sent yours, so you know that it was sent before your reply, and you open it with interest. You're greeted by a 2nd picture of the dog, this time with someone else wearing a blue t-shirt and black shorts holding the dog across the chest while giving the camera a thumbs up with his opposite arm. You figure this headless person must be Sky High, it is  _ his _ dog after all, and kind of love that Barnaby got him to pose for you, even if his head was cut off to preserve his secret identity. The dog is super cute, and definitely a pupper, as all dogs are puppers in your eyes. Your next message back is a little more legible. 

 

_ OMG is that Sky High!?! Thank him for the picture and tell his pup he's a good boy for me!  _

 

_ Sky High says ‘You're welcome and you're welcome again!’ and John, that's the dog's name apparently, barked when I told him you think he's a good boy. I guess that's a thank you?  _

 

You hold your phone to your chest for a moment, reveling in the joy that's radiating from your entire being. Even if this whole thing turns out terribly you know that this little exchange will forever be one of the happiest moments of your twenties. After all, how many girls are lucky enough to have the greatest terrible picture of Barnaby Brooks Jr. and Sky High’s dog as the background of their phone? That would just be you. 

 

***************

 

The two of you begin a new routine. During the week and weekend the two of you exchange texts to the point where your cubicle mate is starting to get suspicious. Then, on Thursdays you meet up, go shopping, and then get dinner or head back to Barnaby’s place where he cooks for you. 

 

It's one of those nights when you finally meet the famed Wild Tiger. You're sitting in The Chair ™ in Barnaby’s apartment, wrapped in his only spare blanket and cuddling the pink bunny pillow you found in his room, while you absent-mindedly scroll through the hundreds of movies on his holopad. He's cooking dinner, while you've been left in charge of tonight's entertainment. You're pretty sure he doesn't own a single movie that's come out in the last 20 years that isn't an opera or a documentary, and, while being around him has maybe made you slightly more cultured, you're just not in the mood to watch  _ Madame Butterfly _ for the umpteenth time. With a sigh you sign in to your Wowflix and settle on some cheesy romantic comedy with a bunch of no name actors, and wait for food to be brought to you. 

 

But, just as Barnaby is bringing out plates the keypad on his door lights up and starts making noise. This seems highly unusual since Barnaby lives alone and you highly doubt his neighbors would mistake his door for theirs. All Barnaby does is sigh heavily and hand you a plate of stir-fried beef and veggies while he makes himself comfortable on the floor next to you. 

 

“Umm…” you look at him in confusion.

 

He rolls his shoulders in a shrug. 

 

“You'll see, I suppose this was inevitable,” he says with another sigh before poking at his food with his fork. 

 

After about three tries the door pad finally flashes green and the door opens to reveal an older man, probably in his mid to late 30’s, wearing a green shirt, white vest, and matching hat and holding a case of cheap beer. Before he even says anything you recognize the strange, cat shaped facial hair, and realize that THE Wild Tiger is currently crashing your evening. 

 

“Hey, Bunny, I know you said you didn't want us to do anything for your birthday this year, so I figured, since it was the day after, I'd stop by and we could have some totally non celebratory beer. What do you… Say?” he stops when he finally notices that the person he's about ready to set the case of beer in the lap of is, in fact, not Barnaby. 

 

He blinks stupidly at you and then shifts his eyes over to his partner on the floor. Then he looks back at you and breaks into a sheepish grin. At least he has the common sense to look a little embarrassed, you think. He pulls the case of beer tightly to his chest with one hand while the other rubs at the back of his neck. 

 

“Oh, um, is it Thursday already?” the man, who you assume is Wild Tiger, asks with an embarrassed laugh. 

 

Barnaby, who has basically just been poking at his food since the man walked in, finally looks up at him with an irritated and slightly tired look in his eyes. 

 

“You know it is, Old Man, you've done your snooping, now leave!” 

 

Well  _ that _ wasn't very nice. 

 

“Come on, Bunny, it would be rude if you didn't introduce your partner to your secret Thursday girlfriend! Besides, I brought beer!” The man places the case of beer on the floor at Barnaby’s feet as a kind of offering. 

 

The blonde doesn't exactly look impressed. If anything he looks more annoyed than you've ever seen him. 

 

For your part, you simply watch the drama unfold as you munch on your stir-fry and cuddle the pink bunny pillow. After all, being called Barnaby’s secret Thursday girlfriend is mildly thrilling and how many times do you get to see two superheroes argue in front of you? 

 

“Come on, Bunnnnyyyy! If  _ I  _ had a secret girlfriend, I'd introduce her to  _ you!”  _ the man whines. 

 

“Then she wouldn't be much of a secret, would she?” Barnaby replies with a smirk. 

 

“Fine, then I'll introduce myself,” he turns to you, but just as he's about to offer you his hand Barnaby pipes up.

 

“You know she probably already knows who you are. After all I told her you're the only person that ever comes over here uninvited.”

 

He looks a little shocked at that. After all, he's not wearing his mask and he probably just about told you his real name. You swallow a bite of food, place your plate on the table next to you, and offer him your hand not currently holding the stuffed bunny. 

 

“I'm, *name*, it's nice to meet you Mr. Wild Tiger,” you offer with a smile. 

 

He looks a little skeptical at first, but quickly recovers and shakes your hand with a grin. 

 

“Pleasure’s all mine! I've been waiting to meet you for  _ months _ !” he exclaims with a grin. “Man, when I found out Bunny was keeping some big secret I was worried half to death! I'm so relieved to find out he just didn't want to share his cute girlfriend with me!” He adds with a wink. 

 

You can't help, but giggle. You hadn't expected Wild Tiger to be so charming. Goofy, maybe, but not sweet. Beside you Barnaby stands up, picking up the case of beer, and heads into the kitchen. Wild Tiger takes no time in stealing the blonde’s spot on the floor, picking up the abandoned plate of stir-fry, and helping himself to Barnaby’s dinner. 

 

“So, what's on the docket for tonight?” the older man asks with a mouth full of food. 

 

You point at the wall where the holopad is projecting the cheesy romcom’s title screen.

 

“Awesome, I love this movie!” he states as he takes another bite. “Bunny's gonna hate it! There's absolutely  _ zero _ educational value and no one breaks into song!” 

 

The two of you share a laugh at that. Though, you do judge his taste in cinema a little, considering you had picked it simply for a chance to make fun of it and not for serious watching. However, the idea of The Crusher For Justice being a bit of a hopeless romantic warms your heart. 

 

“So, *name*, what do you do for a living? Are you a publicist or something? Photographer maybe?”

 

You cock your head to the side quizzically as you look at him. 

 

“No, why?”

 

“Well, I was just trying to figure out how you met Bunny. I mean it's not like we get out a whole lot, and most girls shriek and pass out when they get anywhere near him, so I thought maybe you were in the industry somewhere.” 

 

“Oh,” you hadn't thought about that. It is kind of strange that you're sitting here isn't it? “I'm just your normal law firm secretary,” you finally settle on that as a response, but feel the need to add, “Mr. Brooks and I met at the grocery store in March.”

 

“Grocery store?” 

 

“Uh, yeah, I ran into him while he was buying some rice and then we just kept running into each other. I guess we just kind of fell into a routine after a while…” 

 

He looks thoughtfully at his food for a moment and you suddenly remember yours. You grab your plate and try to busy yourself with eating again, though it's difficult now that you're pretty sure you're being scrutinized by the man on the floor next to you. 

 

“I'm glad he's met someone,” he says after a moment. 

 

You look down at him and his big, soulful amber eyes catch yours. 

 

“He's a good guy, and he's spent the last 20 years of his life practically alone and in a lot of pain. I want him to find happiness and maybe, sometimes, you  _ can _ get that at the store.”

 

You smile softly at him as he starts to eat again. It hadn't really occurred to you that Barnaby being comfortable enough to let you into his space was probably a pretty big deal. You knew that he had devoted most of his life to avenging his parent's deaths, you got that much from the Jake Martinez press conference, but it had never really occurred to you that he didn't really have anyone else. He never talked about any siblings or adopted parents and it kind of dawns on you that he probably didn't have any relatives at all. That idea causes your heart to clench in your chest. After all, you can't imagine not having any family, no matter how much yours annoys you. How long has he lived alone? 

 

You're pulled out of your thoughts by Barnaby finally returning to the room. He places two large glasses of wine on the table and throws a beer at Wild Tiger, who whines in return. Then he looks around the room with a frown. You catch on pretty quick and uncurl yourself from The Chair ™. You quickly dash into the kitchen to rid yourself of your empty plate, make a pit stop by his bedroom, to put the bunny away, and then hurry back.

 

“Sit,” you push him a little when you see he hasn't grasped the concept yet. 

 

“But where will you…”

 

“Just sit down,” you return with more force and a frown. 

 

He complies, giving you a quizzical look, but once he looks fairly comfortable you move in. You push his knees apart and settle yourself between his legs before leaning back with your head on his chest. You can feel him tense beneath you and you worry for a moment that maybe this is too much in his personal space, but after a moment he relaxes and tentatively wraps his arms around you to rest on your tummy. You feel his chin settle on your head, so you reach over and press play on the movie. 

 

The movie is dumb, but you're having troubles focusing on it anyway. The solid warmth pressed closely to your back is far more interesting than the failed love life of the leading female. You can feel every time he shifts to take a sip of wine or readjusts his hold on you, and you fight down the urge to squeal in joy when you feel him nuzzle, just slightly, into your hair. You never would have thought having Wild Tiger crash your Thursday night ritual would lead to such a wonderful development.

 

At some point your baggy t-shirt rides up a little on one side and his hand seems to gravitate to the bare skin. His thumb traces a lazy circle on the spot causing your breath to hitch in your throat. You can't stop the soft sigh that escapes you, and you can see from the corner of your eye that Wild Tiger glances your way at the sound. You find that you kind of hope he approves. 

 

After the movie comes to an end, Barnaby shifts, signaling for you to move out of his lap. You do so reluctantly, but are happy to see him shoving his partner out the door moments later. The other man doesn't leave quietly, but does shout, “Behave and don't do anything I wouldn't do!” on his way out. Barnaby sighs and rests his head on the door as it shuts. 

 

You disengage from your blanket cocoon and meet him at the door. You run a gentle hand down his shoulder and he turns to face you. 

 

“Did you have anything to eat?” you ask when his eyes meet yours. 

 

“I ate in the kitchen while you two were talking,” he responds pulling his gaze to the floor. “I kind of wanted the two of you to have a chance to gauge each other. I would like it if you liked each other.”

 

You smile at that. Who knew Barnaby Brooks Jr. was so sentimental? Then you remind yourself of what Tiger had told you, and you realize that maybe, just maybe, Tiger has become his family. And he wants that family to approve of you. 

 

“I hope I made a good impression,” you sigh, “After all, I'm pretty much just your average, everyday person, and I don't think he expected that.”

 

He frowns. 

 

“I don't think you're average.”

 

You smile. Before you know what you're doing, you're reaching out to him and pulling him into a tight hug. He pulls you just as tightly to him and weaves his fingers through your hair. Your heart is racing. He smells so good, coconut and leather, his arms are so strong and warm, and you feel like you fit together perfectly. He pulls back slightly and tips your head back before aligning his lips with yours.

 

The kiss is soft, and he doesn't move at first, but once your brain catches up, you press your lips more firmly against his. He's tentative in his movements, slow and steady, as though he's wary as to whether he's following all the steps correctly. You can feel him tense as your tongue presses gently against his lips, but he still responds, parting them and allowing his tongue to twine with your own. He groans at that, pulling you closer, running the hand on your waist up your back and then down your hip. The hand slips further and firmly grips your ass before he suddenly pulls away, breaking the kiss and holding your shoulders slightly away from his body.

 

“I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…” he’s panting, out of breath, red in the face and looking a little guilty.

 

You can't help but laugh. It's not a huge guffaw, but it's definitely notable. He looks at you, a little confused.

 

“Sorry, I'm not laughing at you,” you run a hand down his chest and settle it just above his belly button. “I'm just really happy to know you feel the same way I do. And, um, you didn't overstep at all. I, um, I li-like your hands on me.”

 

Now you're both red faced and not looking at each other. But neither of you has pulled away and you're kind of hoping he'll be the first to move again as you're not sure what exactly the next step is here. Finally he pulls you back to his chest and buries his face in your hair. You sigh in relief as you relax into his hold on you.

 

“I don't want you to be my secret Thursday girlfriend,” he mumbles into your hair. 

 

“Oh?” you mumble back, pulling back to look at him.

 

“If you want, I would really like you to be my normal, everyday girlfriend,” he responds softly.

 

“I would really like that,” you sigh in relief.

 

The smile that breaks over his face is the best one you've seen yet and you can't help but lean back up and kiss his stupidly pretty face. He responds immediately, and his hands are back on you, one at the base of your neck and the other at the small of your back. You run your own hands down his shoulders before wrapping them around his neck. He pulls you flush against him and you have to resist the urge to grind your hips against his, worried he may pull away again. However, you have little to worry about as he slides his hands down to your thighs and hoists you up to wrap your legs around his hips. He turns and you feel the door press against your back. Suddenly you're pinned between the cold wood and his warm, solid, muscular frame. 

 

He grinds against you, breaking your heated kiss as you both moan out in pleasure. He does it again as his lips find your neck and nip and lick and suck  from your ear to your shoulder. You can barely remember to breathe, lost in the feeling of his body pressed so tightly to yours and his lips and hands roaming over you. The growing bulge in his pants rubs teasingly against you, and you know for sure that there are too many layers of clothing separating your bodies. 

 

“Do you wanna…?” his voice is rough and low, and the sound of it sends shivers down your spine.

 

“Bed,” you gasp out, desperate to continue.

 

He carries you the short distance from the door to his room and the two of you collapse into his bed. You part long enough for both of you to yank off your shirts and toss them to the floor, but instantly you're drawn back together. Your lips crash together as your hands roam over his taught, muscular shoulders and chest. When you notice that he hasn't touched you since the shirt came off, you grab one of his hands and firmly place it over one of your breasts. 

 

He breaks the kiss and looks down at you. He gives your breast an apprehensive squeeze, gauging your reaction to it. You sigh appreciatively, but push him over onto his back. Taking control of the situation, you unclasp your bra and toss the offending article onto the floor, before straddling his hips and grinding down on the bulge in his pants. The moan that escapes his lips is delicious, and you love the way he moves one hand to your hip to guide you while the other gently cups and fondles one of your breasts. 

 

“S-stop” he groans as he pulls you down flush against him, burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

 

You're a little worried you did something wrong, but judging by how ragged his breathing sounds, you think it maybe the opposite.

 

“I don't want to, not yet,” he whispers as he kisses up your neck and back to your lips. 

 

The kiss is quick, and in an instant he's looming over you again. He kisses down your neck and chest, laving his tongue over each of your nipples, making you squirm, before trailing down to where your yoga pants sit on your hips. He looks up at you, asking permission. You nod and lift your hips as he pulls off both yogas and panties in one go. You feel your face flush as he looks at you, seeming to study this new bit of revealed flesh.

 

Suddenly he looks determined and he's parting your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed. He kneels on the floor before running his hands up your thighs. You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he leans into you. He gently nuzzles your mound with his nose as his thumb runs over your folds. You gasp as you feel his tongue lap at your clit and grasp into his hair as he sucks and licks at your sex. 

 

The feeling is electrifying and intoxicating and when was the last time you felt this good? Your toes are curling and the heat building in your stomach is starting to rise to a boil. You feel your muscles clench and your toes curl and before you can even manage a warning you're coming with a choked moan and a sob. He stops when you jerk away from the stimulation and looks up at you with concern.

 

“G-good?” he asks from his position on the floor between your knees.

 

“S-so good,” you manage between panted breaths. 

 

He stands then, walking over to the bedside table and pulling something from the drawer. He then stands at the foot of the bed and looks down at you, questioning his next move. As you've had a moment to recoup, you sit up and pull at the white belt holding up his pants. It only takes you a second to undo it and unbutton and zip his grey cargo pants. You pull them down to his knees before sliding your fingers under the waistband of his sensible, black boxer briefs. He shivers at the touch, but says nothing as you pull them down as well. 

 

His cock is larger than you had anticipated, but not terrifyingly so. You know for sure now that he waxes, as he's perfectly hairless, even here, not that you mind. You grasp his shaft firmly in one hand and give him a test stroke. His head falls back as he groans. You smirk. Grabbing the condom from his hand, you tear open the package and stretch the band over the head of his member before rolling it down and then sliding back to the head of the bed. He, rather ungracefully, pulls his pants and undergarments from his legs and crawls up the bed to join you. 

 

You spread your legs wide to accommodate his slim hips as he positions himself over you. He settles his body over yours and takes your lips again in a slow, gentle kiss. 

 

“Ready?” he asks as you break apart and rests his forehead against yours.

 

“Yes,” you sigh as you kiss him one more time.

 

His hand slides down your body and between your legs to guide himself into your waiting entrance. You moan, low and heady, as he first pushes in. The stretch almost too much, but so incredibly good. He goes slow, eyes clenched shut, chewing the crap out of his bottom lip while trying to control himself. When he's finally fully sheathed his forehead presses against yours again and he lets out a shaky breath. You lay butterfly kisses all over his face and run your hands all over his shoulders and back. 

 

“Move,” you whisper against his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

 

He obeys and rocks his hips forward. Just like everything has started tonight, his movements are slow and tentative at first, rocking against you, trying to judge your reactions. 

 

“Barnaby,” you moan, “harder.” 

 

He whines at the request, but is quick to comply. His hips pull back and quickly piston forward. After that he follows his body’s desires, taking you fast and hard and relentless. You feel the pleasure coiling up up your belly again and you know you only need a little more. As though he can read your mind, the hand he has on your hip slides between you and he circles your clit with his thumb. Only moments later your second orgasm washes over you, flooding your senses with warmth and tingling pleasure. As your inner walls clench around him, his pace becomes erratic and moments later he growls as he comes. 

 

His full weight collapses onto you as you both still, panting hard, trying to collect yourselves. You feel his glasses dig into your neck, but you can't bring yourself to complain. Instead you run your hands through his hair and place kisses on the top of his head. After a moment he shifts and pulls away, removing the condom and tossing it in the trash by the bed, before placing his glasses on the table and settling down next to you. He wraps himself around you and rests his head on your shoulder before pulling the blankets over top of the two of you.

 

You know you should leave. You have work in the morning, but there's no way you can force your body into movement right now. Not when you're so warm and happy and saited. And definitely not when you feel Barnaby placing lazy, gentle kisses along your collar bones. You're only seconds from sleep when he speaks.

 

“What time should you be up tomorrow?” he asks, sounding as groggy as you feel.

 

“Probably 6,” you manage to slur out.

 

“My alarm is set for 6:30,” he mumbles back.

 

“Good enough,” you sigh. 

 

You roll onto your side and he quickly becomes the big spoon, obviously keen on staying as close to you as humanly possible. With a contented hum your eyes fall closed and you drift off to sleep.

 

********************

 

The next morning you awaken with a start to the shrieking of an unfamiliar alarm. You grab a pillow and cover your ears as you roll over to try and hide from the God awful noise, and come nose to nose with Barnaby. His eyes are still closed as he reaches over you to snooze the alarm. You notice that his hair has been flattened by sleep and some of his normally perfect curls are sticking up randomly. The thin veil of foundation and concealer he normally sports has worn away with sleep to reveal dark circles under his eyes and what might be the start of a zit on his stubbly chin. The sight makes you giggle a little.

 

He cracks open one emerald green eye and the next thing you know, your being pulled on top of him. He reaches up and brushes away some hair from your forehead before leaning up and giving you a peck on the lips. You giggle again, happily kissing him back. However, you're quickly reminded of how naked the two of you are when you feel his morning wood prod the side of your thigh. With a smirk, you snake down his body and settle yourself between his muscular thighs.

 

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells you as you wrap your hand around his turgid flesh.

 

“But, Mr. Brooks, how could I leave you in such a state,” you respond with your best demure smile.

 

He doesn't respond, but lets out a pleased groan as you run your tongue from base to head. He lays back, covering his eyes with an arm as you relax your jaw and take him as far as you can without gagging. You haven't done this in a while, but you certainly aren't getting any complaints. After a minute or two you can tell he's close by the way the muscles in his thighs tense as he tries to keep from gagging you, and you speed up your rhythm, while also fondling his testicles with your free hand. 

 

“I'm gonna, you gotta…” he can't get a full sentence out, but you take the hint and pull off just as he finishes, catching most of his load in your hand, but getting one errant streak down the side of your mouth.

 

He finally looks down at you and a look of mortification crosses his face. He quickly grabs a fist full of tissues from the night stand and starts wiping at your face.

 

“I'm sorry,” he says as he scrubs at your face and hand.

 

You just laugh. After all sex is messy, that's half the fun. The look he gives you is full of confusion, so you just kiss him until it goes away.

 

By the time you're up and both showered it's almost 8am and you  _ really _ need to leave. It's difficult to finally pull away at the door, but somehow you manage, and sprint out to your car. By the time you get home, change, and get to work it's 9:03am and you hope to God no one notices you slinking into your cubicle. 

 

Of course your cubicle mate is already there. She does a double take as you walk in. You nervously adjust your hair and hope you managed to get your eyeliner on straight as you sit down and put your purse away.

 

“You smell nice today,” she starts, “new shampoo?”

 

“Umm, yeah, I guess,” you reply as nonchalantly as possible with your cheeks starting to heat up.

 

“And your skin looks so nice,” she adds with a sly smirk.

 

You turn to face her, which was a mistake as you're greeted by the speedo picture on her wall and instantly turn red as a tomato. Now there's really nothing you could possibly say that would convince her that your evening had simply been a wholesome, family friendly affair, but that doesn't stop you from trying. You quickly turn your chair back around before replying.

 

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

 

“Oh, really,” she sounds like she doesn't believe you, but thankfully she doesn't press the issue and your morning and early afternoon go on without a hitch.

 

Around 3pm you're forced to evacuate the building as there's a NEXT criminal being chased across rooftops in the area and apparently he has some sort of explosive power that he's using to slow down the superheroes. You watch from a safe distance as Sky High, Wild Tiger and Barnaby pursue the suspect across the skyline. At some point the criminal rounds on Sky High and fires off an explosive blast. Wild Tiger shoves the Wind Wizard out of the way just as Sky High lets off a powerful blast of air. The two powerful forces collide and send the three; Wild Tiger, Sky High and the criminal, flying back with a percussive shock wave. Sky High recovers and is quick to catch Wild Tiger before he falls from the rooftop to his death, but the criminal isn't so lucky. He tumbles off the roof and you watch in shock as you're pretty sure you're about to see a man die. Suddenly Barnaby leaps out of nowhere and catches the guy, but now they're falling together and all of a sudden the lights on Barnaby’s suit shut down signaling the end of his powers. You watch in fear as he tries to slow their descent with his suit’s thrusters, but there just isn't enough power there to really stop them from falling. They land with a crash, in the dumpster on the side of the building, and you find yourself running towards them as quickly as you can.

 

You're stopped by the police barrier and you try to push your way past but the cops won't budge. The fear in your chest is rising the longer you stand there and you don't see Barnaby. Sky High and Wild Tiger land just a few feet away.

 

“Tiger!” you call out as loud as you can manage.

 

The man turns to look at you and recognizes you instantly. He opens his face plate and hustles up to the police barrier.

 

“*your name*? What are you doing here?” he asks with concern.

 

“I work here!” you don't mean to shout or sound snarky, but there's just so much fear and adrenaline pumping through your system you can't control the sound of your voice. “Barnaby, is he…” 

 

Wild Tiger holds up a finger for you to hold on and then bolts off towards the alleyway where Barnaby fell. A moment later and out walks Tiger and Barnaby. Tiger has the criminal slung over one shoulder while Barnaby leans on his other while holding his side. Barnaby is limping and he looks like he's in a lot of pain, but he seems relatively alright. You breathe a sigh of relief and finally feel the knot of fear in your chest relax. Tiger hands over the criminal to the police and gives you a thumbs up as the paramedics get Barnaby on a stretcher. 

 

Ten minutes later you're back in your office gathering your things and trying to leave. Of course you can't get away that easily. Your cubicle mate corners you, blocking your escape with her body.

 

“What was that?” she asks with her hands on her hips.

 

“What was what?” you're trying to keep the irritation out of your voice, but you know it's impossible. You have places to be damn it!

 

“First you just bolt off like a bat out of hell and then what was with Wild Tiger? It was like he knew you!” she replies perplexed. 

 

“It's none of your business,” you state as you try to shoulder past her, but she's not letting you go.

 

“Come on *name*, we've been working together for over two years now. I know when something's up with you. Between all the texting and giggle fits and then today I know there's something going on.”

 

You sigh, but back down a little. You figured someone would find out eventually and honestly you're just glad it's not some sleazy paparazzi.

 

“Okay, fine,” you rub your temples as you continue, “I'm dating one of the heroes.”

 

She looks shocked, to say the least. Her mouth hangs open and her eyes are wide. 

 

“Which one?” she asks when she finally recovers.

 

“Does it really matter?” you sigh.

 

“Well, yes, you can't just drop that bomb and then not give me any details! This is huge!”

 

You sigh again and your gaze drifts to one of the photos on her cubicle wall. She follows your eyes and realization dawns on her in an instant.

 

“No!” she practically shouts.

 

You shush her.

 

“Keep your voice down!” 

 

“Since when?!?” she's still being quite loud though now it's more a hushed yelling.

 

“Officially? Last night, but we've been seeing each other for almost 8 months now,” you look at her and then sit back in your chair since you're fairly certain you're not going anywhere anytime soon. 

 

She blinks a few times before she takes her chair as well and leans in close, conspiratorially.

 

“Tell. Me. EVERYTHING!” she whisper shouts at you.

 

You sigh before you go into explanation mode. You tell her about the shopping and the story about him asking the store clerk about you. Then you tell her about the night he first asked you back to his place to sample his cooking. You even show her a few pictures he's sent you to validate your claims. You finish with last night's meeting with Wild Tiger and Barnaby’s request to date, conveniently leaving out the rest of the evening's activities. When you finish she looks absolutely giddy with excitement.

 

“Oh my God!  _ My _ coworker is dating  _ the  _ Barnaby Brooks Jr.! This is like the greatest thing that's ever happened to anyone I've ever known!”

 

You try again in vain to get her to keep her voice down. After all you really don't need any more attention than she's already giving you.

 

“So, can I go now?” you finally ask as you reach for your stuff.

 

“What, why? You're just getting to the good stuff!” she actually shouts this time.

 

“Because my boyfriend fell off the roof of a 50 story building about an hour ago and had to be carted off to the hospital.”

 

Her eyes go wide again and she jumps from her seat.

 

“Oh my God I totally forgot! Go, go, go! You can tell me how he is in bed later!” she exclaims as she shoves you out of your joint cubicle.

 

You shake your head, but you're happy to make a quick exit. Once in your car you try calling Barnaby. Tiger is the one who answers, and your heart sinks a little.

 

“Is he okay?” you ask as you put your car into drive and pull out. 

 

“He’s going to be fine, but they had to take him into surgery. A piece of metal in the dumpster went through his suit and they had to operate to remove it. They just got him sedated and they're working on him now,” comes Tiger’s nervous reply.

 

“Which hospital?” 

 

“Sternbild Memorial on the Gold Stage. I already gave security and the hospital staff your name. They should let you in.”

 

“Thank you,” you sigh, “He’s really going to be okay?”

 

“Of course! Bunny’s made of tougher stuff than you'd think!”

 

“Thanks, Tiger,” you respond before ending the call. 

 

Quickly you run home, change, and pack a few changes of clothes in a bag. You're hoping that by the time you get there Barnaby will be out of surgery and you can take him home to spend your weekend nursing him back to health. You leave your apartment, hop in your car and try to keep yourself from getting a ticket trying to get to the hospital.

 

Once you arrive, you tell the hospital staff your name. They take your ID and usher you up to the VIP floor. Once there security again takes your ID but this time they also search your purse and give you a pat down before you're ushered into a waiting room. You notice Wild Tiger, who looks far less calm and collected than he had sounded on the phone, bouncing his knee in a corner chair. A blonde man in jeans, a white t-shirt, and blue bomber jacket is trying to talk to him, but Tiger doesn't really seem interested in what he's saying. You approach and quickly take the seat next to Tiger.

 

“Any word?” you ask as you place a hand on Tiger’s knee to try and stop the clicking of his shoes on the tile floor.

 

Tiger looks up at you before taking your hand in his own. Thankfully his knee stops as he sits up a little straighter in his chair.

 

“The damage was a little more severe than they thought. I guess the impact from the fall caused his spleen to rupture and they think they might have to remove it. Again, they said he’ll be fine, but he will have to be extra careful around sick people without it.”

 

You nod, looking down where your hands are joined and giving his a slight squeeze.

 

“Are  _ you  _ alright?”  you ask as you look back up at his face.

 

“Heh,” he sighs, “I just don't like hospitals. Bad memories.” He grips your hand a little tighter. “But, Sky, I mean Keith here was nice enough to keep me company.”

 

You look at the other man, whose face is a mask of confusion. He's stocky, not heavy, but well built, and maybe only a couple of inches taller than yourself. You try imagining him wearing a white tabard and jetpack and you're pretty sure he fits the bill for Sky High. Of course, you haven't heard him speak yet, so you can't be sure, but given Tiger’s slip up, you're quite certain that's the case. You have to admit you're surprised that he's almost as movie star pretty as Barnaby. Is it a requirement for heros to be hot? You laugh at that causing both men to look at you.

 

“S-sorry, I'm just starting to wonder if there's like a rule that all superheroes have to look like leading role quality actors!” you reply between giggles.

 

Wild Tiger joins in on your laughter as well at that.

 

“I'm not very good at acting,” Sky High responds which sends you and Tiger into another fit of cackling laughter.

 

When Tiger can breath again he turns to you and asks, “I'm the best looking one though, right?”

 

You raise your free hand to your chin as though you're thinking about it.

 

“I'm going to have to go with no,” you respond.

 

He looks shocked and pulls his free hand to his chest.

 

“On what basis have you made  _ that  _ decision?” he asks in mock offense.

 

“I've seen Barnaby naked,” you reply, barely holding back laughter.

 

“Fair enough,” comes his reply as he shakes his head.

 

You almost actually hear something click in Sky High’s head when he looks at you next.

 

“You must be Mr. Brooks's lady friend!” the blonde suddenly exclaims.

 

“I am, *name*, it's a pleasure to meet you,” you say as you offer him your free hand.

 

He takes it in his and gives you a good hardy shake.

 

“The pleasure is all mine and again the pleasure is mine!” and if you hadn't realized he was Sky High already, that would have definitely tipped you off.

 

The next few hours pass slowly as you and Sky High talk, mostly, about dogs. Tiger tries to act as though he's interested but when the discussion turns into a heated debate over what classifies as a pupper or a doggo, you can tell he zones out. He slips down into his chair and pulls his hat over his eyes, but he never lets go of your hand, and you find that very comforting.

 

About 15 minutes into hour four, Sky High, who has asked you to call him Keith, steps out to get drinks and snacks for the three of you. You adjust yourself in your chair, pulling your legs underneath you and sliding down to rest your head on Wild Tiger’s shoulder. He shifts a little so that he can rest his head on yours, and both of you sigh, almost in unison.

 

“I'm worried,” he mumbles.

 

“Me too,” you sigh again.

 

“How long is it going to take?” 

 

“I googled it during hour two of the pupper/doggo debate. Supposedly, the splenectomy should have only taken an hour, but we have no idea what else they had to do, so… I'm trying not to think about it,” you respond as you close your eyes. 

 

“I can't lose him.” 

 

You feel something wet drip onto your face once and then again. For all of Wild Tiger's bravado and silliness, he’s a quiet crier when he's serious. His body shakes a little as he tries to hold back the tears and all you can do is rub your thumb over his knuckles and whisper that everything will be fine. 

 

After a moment the door to the waiting room opens and a man in a white lab coat steps inside. He asks to speak to Tiger in the hallway. He wipes his face with his sleeve on his free arm and gives your connected hand a squeeze before the link between you is severed. They exit the room and a cold panic settles over you. Something  _ had _ to have gone wrong. Why else would the doctor pull Tiger into the hall and not just tell you that you could see Barnaby? You're certain that something terrible happened. You're almost in tears yourself when Tiger comes back into the room and takes your hand again. He pulls you up and the two of you walk down the hallway to room 1562 and then enter. 

 

Barnaby isn't awake, but the monitor beeping by his bedside at least tells you that he's alive. His hair is a mess of tangles and sweat slicked curls. His complexion is pale, paler than normal, and the dark circles you noticed under his eyes this morning seem even darker. You brush some hair away from his forehead and run your hand down his cheek. He feels cool to the touch, but sweaty and you feel those tears welling up in your eyes again.

 

Tiger pulls up a chair on either side of the bed. You sit in stunned silence, quietly taking Barnaby’s limp hand in your own. Tiger does the same on the opposite side and for a moment everything is still and silent, except for the steady beep of the heart monitor.

 

“They underestimated the amount of anesthesia needed to keep him down for the procedure. I guess he started coming around while they were still putting him back together and in his confused state he activated his powers to try and get away. It took seven security guards and enough sedatives to put down a small elephant to put him back down on the table. After his five minutes were up they had to go back in and pretty much redo all the internal stitches and stuff. Plus, since our power rapidly regenerates muscle tissue, they had to redo all the incisions just to get back in to stop him from bleeding to death. He's lost a lot of blood, but the doc told me he should be fine as long as he doesn't freak out again,” Tiger takes a deep breath and settles back into his chair.

 

“I thought he said you could use your powers to heal yourselves… it only works on muscle tissue?”

 

“No, when you focus on healing it can make minor repairs to everything. The effect doesn't work for the full five minutes though, and you heal from the inside out, so while minor cuts and stuff heal up in seconds, bigger stuff can take several sessions. It's exhausting, but it can get you back on the field quicker than the natural healing process. But if you aren't focused on actually healing and activate it, a lot of times it does more harm than good. Repaired muscles are great, unless the bone is damaged and not set right or, in Bunny’s case, the stitches holding you together pop because of the strain of the regenerated tissue pressing on damaged stuff. He's lucky they were able to stop him before he bled out.”

 

You let out a shaky breath. There's a lot you don't know about NEXT powers and the more you learn the more you're glad you never got them. You remember how jealous you were when the neighbor boy you'd grown up with got powers at 13. They weren't even that exciting as far as powers go, he could turn any liquid into alcohol; okay it  _ was  _ pretty exciting when you were 16 and getting drunk was exciting and taboo, but he would never go on to be a hero or anything. 

 

You didn't understand why his parents were so ashamed to have a NEXT as a kid, or why your parents were suddenly so reluctant to let you hang out with him after he presented. Getting powers didn't make him a different person after all, and you thought it would be a whole lot of fun to be able to do something no one else could. The harder you tried to keep close to him, the more you learned about the prejudices surrounding NEXTs, and the less you understood. None of it made sense to you, hell, it still doesn't. 

 

You've never really thought about the down sides of having powers, aside from the prejudice of other people, but you're sure there are others. It makes you wonder where your childhood friend ended up.

 

“Have you ever been afraid of him?” Tiger’s voice is quiet, maybe a little scared. 

 

“No,” your reply is quick, easy. You've never been afraid of Barnaby, how could you be when he's been nothing but kind, well mostly, to you?

 

Tiger sighs.

 

“I'm glad, and I hope it stays that way,” he seems hesitant, but he continues slightly strained. “When my wife and I first started to get to know each other, I was always worried that I would hurt her or that I would do something and she would be terrified of me. That fear calmed down with lots of reassurance from her, and we got married and were living the dream, but when we had our daughter, Kaede, it came back with a vengeance. I never wanted them to be afraid of me, but sometimes, even though you have control of your powers, there are things you can't always control.”

 

You meet his eyes. You frown and your eyebrows crease.

 

“I'm not saying that you  _ should _ be afraid of Bunny, but you should be aware that stuff like today can and will happen.”

 

“I'm not afraid of his powers,” you respond as you lift Barnaby's hand to your lips, “I find the idea of him getting hurt or dying because of his job far more terrifying.”

 

He smiles at you. 

 

“You sound like Tomoe.”

 

You give him a small smile at that before looking back at Barnaby. You wish he'd wake up, but are pretty sure that it's going to be a while with so many sedatives in his system. 

 

“Hey, Tiger, if you have to get home to your family, I'll keep you updated,” you try to give the hero a reassuring smile, but are sure he can see right through to your scared, heart sick center.

 

“It's alright, um, Tomoe passed away five years ago and our daughter lives with my mom.  So, it's stay here and worry with you or go home and worry alone.”

 

You nod, not quite sure what to say.

 

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments before Sky High comes in with coffee and sandwiches. It turns out that the Wind Wizard had decided that instead of vending machine coffee and chips, he would just go to the small shop across the street and get actual food. You're thankful, since it is almost eleven, and you hadn't eaten since your date the night prior. You munch on your sandwich as Sky High excuses himself to go home and check on his dog. And then it's just you, Tiger, and Barnaby again. 

 

The two of you finish eating and decide  to figure out how sleeping arrangements are going to work. Since the room is a VIP setup, there's a spare bed for the occupant’s visiter as well as a recliner and several smaller chairs. Tiger tries to talk you into sleeping in the bed, but you don't really want to separate yourself from Barnaby's side. Tiger flops down into the recliner, and in moments, is snoring soundly. You pull your chair a little closer to Barnaby's bed and rest your head in your arms next to his hand.

 

**************

 

You're tugged from sleep by fingers gently carding through your hair. You hum as nails gently rub at your scalp and then behind your ear. You lift your head and see groggy green eyes staring down at you. You practically snap to attention, regretting the quick movement as your stiff neck and back protest it with pain. You rub at your neck, turning your head to try and get the crick out.

 

“You could have used the other bed,” Barnaby's voice is rough, as though he's been yelling, but the amusement in it is clear.

 

“I, um, well,” you didn't really have a reply. You were just excited to see him awake.

 

“I tried to make her, but she wouldn't budge from your side,” Tiger yawns from his seat across the room.

 

You shoot him a rather indignant look that he returns with a grin before joining you at Barnaby's bedside.

 

“How ya feelin’ Little Bunny?” the older man asks resting a hand on your shoulder.

 

“Like I fell 500ft into a dumpster,” Barnaby replies rubbing at his own stiff neck. “Did Saito figure out why the suit failed? I shouldn't have been impaled like that.” 

 

“He said it was a combination of the speed you were falling at, the added weight of the criminal landing on you, and a weakened seam in the body suit. He also said it's probably better you were impaled rather than the massive internal bleeding and all the broken stuff you would have had from the force of impact.”

 

“Hmm…” Barnaby raises his hand to his chin as he thinks, but winces at the movement. 

 

“Wait, the suspect, is he?”

 

“He’s fine, Bunny, a few bumps and bruises, but way better off than you.”

 

“Good,” Barnaby sighs and settles back into the bed.

 

At that moment a nurse and doctor enter the room and start taking vitals and checking his incisions. They fill him in on what all happened during his operation. He gets very quiet before he tells them that he's going to use his powers to speed up the healing process and that he'll be out of their hair soon enough. They look a little concerned but they don't try to talk him out of it. They just tell him not to do anything without a nurse or doctor present and then they're gone as quickly as they came. 

 

He uses the buttons on his bed to sit himself up a little straighter after they're gone and closes his eyes before running a hand through his hair. He winces as his fingers come into contact with a mass of knots and tangles. Giving up, he lays his arm back down with an irritated sigh.

 

“I can go get my overnight bag from my car,” you offer, “It has a hair brush in it.”

 

“I would appreciate that,” he responds, “I probably look awful.”

 

You huff a laugh at that. You're pretty sure he's never looked awful a day in his life. A little unkempt maybe, but certainly not tragic. 

 

“I can go if you want,” Tiger offers, holding out a hand for your keys, “I'm old, sitting so long has my legs all stiff.”

 

You hand him your car keys and tell him where you're parked. After a moment of awkward stretching, he’s ambling out of the room to go get your bag. 

 

Once he's gone Barnaby opens his eyes and looks at you. 

 

“I'm sorry I worried you,” he says softly, locating your hand and entwining your fingers. “Tiger told me you were there.”

 

“I work in the building next door,” you respond, “I know your job is dangerous. I was on the bridge, stuck in traffic the day Jake Martinez attacked. I've had some experience.”

 

He squeezes your hand.

 

“It was reckless of me to jump like that. I knew I didn't have enough time left, but I couldn't just watch him fall. God, I think the old man is really starting to wear off on me.” He smiles a bit to himself. 

 

You can't help but smile back. 

 

“Well, I wouldn't be so enamoured with you if I thought you were the kind of person who wouldn't give it your all to save someone. Points or not. Of course that doesn't mean my heart didn't stop when I saw you fall…” you trail off a bit, trying to compose yourself.

 

“This kind of thing doesn't happen often, but I can promise you with certainty that it will happen again. I-I care a lot about you, and I don't want you to leave me, but if it's too much, if it's ever too much…”

 

You stop him with a squeeze to his hand.

 

“I'm not going anywhere, Mr. Brooks,” you say with a small smile. “I'll be here until you tell me you don't want me to be, and even then I'm pretty sure I would at least keep an eye on your superhero doings. You may not be my favorite hero, but I like to stay informed.”

 

He looks a little shocked before he breaks into a laugh. 

 

“I knew you didn't like me the moment I spotted you trying to decide if you were going to help me with the rice!” He says between guffaws of laughter.

 

You explode into a fit of giggles at that.

 

“And you still had the audacity to ask the shopkeeper if I was stalking you?”

 

“Well,” he starts as he winces in pain from the force of his laughter, “I thought I had miss judged you at first. So, who's my top competition?”

 

“Fire Emblem and Dragon Kid are tied for number one, but after meeting Keith yesterday, you might have to actually take down Sky High to up in the rankings.” 

 

“Wait, he revealed himself to you?”

 

“Not by choice,” you sigh at the memory, “Tiger kind of let it slip, but I'm pretty sure I would have figured it out quite quickly. The air head thing isn't really an act after all.”

 

Barnaby chuckles again at that. The two of you lapse into comfortable conversation after that. He asks about work, and you tell him about your cubicle mate cornering you. Then you ask him if he had any plans for the weekend, and of course his only plans were paperwork and talking to you in between hero calls. By the time you realize that Tiger still hadn't come back, it had been nearly two hours. 

 

“Maybe I should go check on him,” you offer as you stand and stretch.

 

“He’s probably standing around talking to someone,” Barnaby replies as he settles back into his bed, “but if you're worried go ahead.”

 

You nod and head out the door. It doesn't take you long to find the older hero. He's standing by the nurse's station, your red Fire Emblem bag slung over one shoulder, as he talks quite animatedly to two younger blonde girls and a tall black person with pink hair. You slowly approach and tap him on the shoulder.

 

“Um, Tiger can I have my bag?” you ask as he turns to you.

 

“Oh, *name*, sorry I kept running into people!” he explains as he hands you the bag. 

 

You smile and turn to leave, but are stopped by a hand on your shoulder.

 

“You should meet these guys,” he gestures over his shoulder at the small group.

 

You turn back and give them a small smile. You can already guess who the taller person with pink hair is, it's not rocket science, but you're unsure about the two girls. After all neither of them looks quite old enough to be Blue Rose.

 

“This is Karina Lyle,” he points to the older of the two girls. “This is Pao Lin Huang, and that is Nathan Seymour.” He turns back to face them, pulling you in front of him, “And this is Bunny’s secret Thursday girlfriend, *name*!”

 

At your introduction the group lights up quite quickly. The next thing you know Nathan has your hands in theirs, and the two girls are in your face. You're barraged with questions about how you met, and if things are serious, and what product do you use on your skin, it looks amazing! You do your best to give answers, but it's all a little overwhelming. Finally, after being told that the four of you are going to  _ have  _ to get dinner sometime, they let you go and you make your escape. 

 

“She's so cute!” you overhear Nathan exclaim before you round the corner and you're a little proud to think that  _ The  _ Fire Emblem thinks  _ you're  _ cute.

 

You slip back into Barnaby's room and lean back against the door with a sigh. He gives you a questioning look and you manage to slide back down into the chair by his bed.

 

“You were right, Tiger was talking, and he drug me into it. Apparently I'm having dinner with Fire Emblem, Blue Rose, and Dragon Kid some time next week.”

 

He chuckles at that. 

 

You start pawing through your bag and in seconds produce a bottle of leave in conditioner and a black paddle brush. He takes the bottle from you and reads the back before nodding his ascent and shifting slightly so that you can work on his hair. You spray it down with the conditioner, and then gently start picking through knots and tangles. You've never had to brush someone else's hair before and you're a little nervous you're going to tear a chunk out or pull too hard, but, thankfully, that doesn't happen and after a few minutes he leans into your ministrations. By the time you're done it's a little fluffier than usual, but you figure that's to be expected given its natural wave and how fine it is. You're just running a final hand through it as the door opens to admit the group from the nurse's station.

 

“Wow, it must be serious if he's letting you touch his hair. He never lets me touch it,” Tiger whines as he takes a seat in the recliner.

 

“And why would you ever need to touch my hair, Old Man?” Barnaby snips as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

 

“I just wanna know whether or not it'll bounce back into place if I pull a curl straight. It's not like a wanna run my fingers through it or anything creepy,” Wild Tiger responds with a huff.

 

“Sounds creepy to me,” Karina replies, leaning against the wall by the recliner.

 

Wild Tiger sputters indignantly for a moment before sitting back and pouting. 

 

“How ya feeling, Handsome?” Nathan asks as they place a hand on Barnaby's knee. 

 

“Fine, though I'll be better after I can get some healing done. The doctors told me to wait until after lunch to try anything,” Barnaby sighs as he settles back into bed.

 

You start to move, but stop when he entwines his fingers with yours. Instead you shift so that you can sit with one leg curled under you and the other off the side of the bed while using the head of the bed as a back rest. His arm settles across your lap and you entertain yourself by mapping the blue veins of the underside of his forearm with your free index finger.

 

“Well, next time wait for Sky High, don’t start acting like Tiger!” Karina berates him.

 

“Hey!” Tiger responds to the insult, but no one acknowledges him.

 

“You're right, I was careless,” Barnaby sighs, “but, in all fairness, I thought thirty seconds would be plenty of time. I miss judged how far the guy had fallen.”

 

As they continue to talk you start to notice that Barnaby is squinting and occasionally rubbing his temples. Then it dawns on you that he isn't wearing his glasses. You start looking around for the familiar silver frames, but they don't seem to be here. Tiger notices you looking around and cocks an eyebrow at you. You point to the blonde and then make a circle with your free hand and hold it up to your face. Realization sparks in the older man's eyes and he pulls the now lint covered glasses out of his pocket. He wipes them with his vest before yelling, “Hey Bunny, catch!” and tossing them to his partner. They hit Barnaby square in the chest and fall into his lap. The blonde frowns before picking them up and opening one arm, when he realizes he needs his other hand, he offers them to you. You open the other arm and he settles them on his face. The room erupts into a chorus of awes and how sweets, turning Barnaby’s face red up to his ears. 

 

“That's something else I wanted to ask you about, Handsome!” Fire Emblem starts, “ Why are we only  _ now _ meeting her? She's so sweet!” 

 

“Yeah!” Pao Lin pipes up before frowning, “You're not ashamed of us, are you?” She looks a little sad at the possibility, but her gaze doesn't falter from his.

 

“No, I'm not ashamed of any of you,” he reassures everyone, giving Tiger an especially pointed look. “First of all, we only  _ officially _ started dating the day before yesterday. Secondly, I would have liked her to meet you all individually, so as not to overwhelm her. After all there's a lot of us, and it can just be a lot.”

 

“Ha,” Karina scoffs, “you finally grow a pair and ask out the girl you've been pining over for months and then you go and nearly get yourself killed. Smooth.”

 

Barnaby blushes again, but this time he raises his free hand to mess with his glasses in an attempt to cover it up.

 

“Wait,” Tiger pipes up from his seat, “If you guys weren't dating before, then was that awkward cuddle session I bore witness to the first one?” 

 

Barnaby grinds out a yes which sends Tiger into hysterics. 

 

“Oh my God! I witnessed a Bunny first!” you can barely make out what he’s saying over the laughter, until he stops dead for a moment and then looks at you with wide eyes, “But last night you said…” more hysterical laughter, “Oh man, Bunny you cad!” 

 

Everyone's staring at him as he's practically on the floor in his fit of laughter. Then suddenly it hits you that you told him and Sky High last night that you had seen Barnaby naked. You can feel your face suddenly heat up. You get Barnaby's attention and quickly whisper in his ear a summary of what you may have said, leaving out the Sky High part. You're pretty sure that there's no blood left in Barnaby's brain considering the very intense blush that flushes from his ears to his chest. Now the attention is split fairly evenly between the two of you, red as tomatoes, and Tiger who still can't manage to stop laughing his ass off. 

 

When Barnaby looks like he might crawl out of bed and murder the shit out of his partner, you know you have to say something.

 

“I, um, I need to go get something to eat,” you jump off the bed and practically sprint towards the door. Smooth.

 

“Hold on, dear, I'll come with you,” Fire Emblem says as they start heading towards the door with you.

 

“Can I come too?” Pao Lin asks, jumping from the foot of Barnaby's bed and joining the two of you at the door.

 

“I think you and Karina should head to the training center and wait for me there. I won't be too long, ladies,” Fire Emblem says as they pat the blonde girl on the head.

 

“You're right, we should leave before we catch Tiger's crazy,” Karina replies as she pushes herself from the wall.

 

**************

 

And suddenly you find yourself at the cafe across the street with your head in your arms on the table while Fire Emblem stares at you while sipping a nonfat vanilla soy latte with extra foam. You're mildly miserable, not to the point of crying, but pretty damn close. You don't even know what to say to your  _ favorite  _ hero, considering you're pretty sure they figured out exactly what Tiger meant when he called Barnaby a “cad". Ugh! Who even talks like that? Of course you suppose it's better than playboy, or player, or fuck boy, which are all more modern options, but still.

 

“You know, honey, no one thinks any less of you for jumping into bed with Handsome. After all we all know how much he cares for you, and if a man that good looking showed even an ounce of that for me I don't know if I could restrain myself,” Fire Emblem finally says between sips. 

 

“It's not that, I'm pretty sure the only ones who put that together are you and Tiger,” you groan, muffled into your folded arms. “It's, just, did you see how angry he was? And that's partially  _ my _ fault. I mean, what I said to Tiger last night was all in good fun, but it turned into Barnaby looking like he might murder someone. I guess I need to tread a little lighter. I mean, even though we've known each other for quite a while now, we don't actually  _ know _ each other. What if this is enough that he doesn't want to see me anymore?”

 

Fire Emblem looks sympathetic as they lay a hand over one of yours.

 

“Honey, I don't think  _ this _ is anything in the long run. Sure, Handsome’s probably a little miffed about having his dirty laundry aired, but he's also a grown man who is capable of logical reasoning. I think, in the grand scheme of things, this is an awkward story you tell your friends back home when they ask you about your boyfriend.”

 

You huff a laugh at that, but it's comforting enough that you turn your eyes out to face your table mate.

 

“When am I  _ ever  _ going to tell my friends about who I'm dating? That sounds like a media shit storm in the making.”

 

Fire Emblem guffaws, as lady like as possible, before they take another sip of their drink.

 

“Oh, don't be silly, sweetie. With a beau as high profile as Handsome, you're probably already on some tabloid website somewhere. And the longer you stay together, the harder it will be to hide. In fact, I'm fairly certain that once Apollon Media gets word of your relationship you're probably going to have to sit through a press conference. Don't you think it would be better if your friends and family find out before you have to go on national television and tell the whole world?”

 

You stare at them wide eyed. It hadn't really occurred to you that maybe your Thursday meetings and the couple of times you've eaten out together were probably documented somewhere by someone. In fact, you're pretty sure he was approached a number of times while you were with him, you even called out to him in front of those girls the first night he made you dinner. You make a mental note to Google ‘Barnaby Brooks Jr. girlfriend’ when you get a minute, before hiding back in your arms.

 

“My parents would kill me if they found out I was dating a guy via the internet,” you groan.

 

“Not to mention King of Heroes,” Fire Emblem adds.

 

“Ugh,” you groan, “how do people do this? I'm not anybody, I'm nothing special. I'm just some girl in the grocery store with better eyesight than him. I never thought that I would…” 

 

“That you would what, honey?”

 

“I-I never thought I would completely fall for him or that there was a possibility that he might feel the same for me. I was just trying to be helpful.”

 

Fire Emblem lifts your head from your arms and holds your eyes with their own.

 

“Oh, honey, we don't actually get a choice when it comes to who we love. When the soul finds its other half it simply latches on and never lets go. All that's left for the two of you to do is to figure out if your half made the right decision.”

 

You crinkle your brow in thought only to have Fire Emblem poke your forehead with one pink nailed finger.

 

“And you need to stop making that face. You'll get wrinkles before you're 30,” they tell you matter of factly.

 

You laugh, which relaxes your face, and they return a soft smile. After a moment your stomach growls and you decide to actually order something; soup, a sandwich, and a frappè.  

 

As you eat you actually get to talk to Fire Emblem about hero stuff, well, mostly gossip you know Barnaby would never be interested in. They tell you all about Karina’s crush on Tiger and how Origami Cyclone is a total weeaboo. They share about how stuck up and awful Barnaby was before settling things with Jake, and how much he's changed in the year since they'd met. All the stories make your heart warm and by the time you're walking back across the street you've almost forgotten that you might be walking back into the fires of Hell.

 

*************

 

As you walk back into the hospital the front desk doesn't even pay attention to you as you pass. Security checks your ID, but they don't bother patting you down this time. When you approach Barnaby's room, you notice a rather petulant looking Wild Tiger sitting on the floor outside the door like a grounded child. You approach, trying not to let the color come to your cheeks as he acknowledges your presence.

 

“Hey, kiddo, you alright?” he asks, having the decency to look a little embarrassed. 

 

“Yeah, I'm fine, how is…” you point at the door in question.

 

“He said, and I quote,” Tiger clears his throat as he goes into a squeaky, high pitched tone you assume is an attempt to mock Barnaby, “‘Get the hell out of my room, Old Man! No one is allowed back in here except *name*, that is if she even comes back, and the doctor you're going to go get right now!’” He sighs and his voice goes back to normal. “You might want to give the doctor a minute though, I think he's making sure Bunny didn't hurt himself when he went through his first healing session.”

 

You nod before sliding to the ground next to Tiger. Even though he totally embarrassed the crap out of you, you can't help but feel calmer and more collected in his presence. It's almost like being around a good friend, you know, the kind that drives you nuts, but for some reason you always forgive them. You like being around him, even if you'll never admit that to anyone, and you totally understand Karina’s crush, even if he is old enough to be her father. You find yourself twining your fingers with his and resting your head on his shoulder just as you did last night. He sighs.

 

“Well, at least you've calmed down,” he says, giving your hand a squeeze, “I just don't get kids these days. When I lost my virginity, Rock Bison and I spent the whole next day getting plastered off our asses. Of course Tomoe was not impressed…”

 

You drown him out as the weight of what he says hits you. Virginity? Is  _ that _ why he was freaking out earlier? Actually, now that you're thinking about it, it makes a lot of sense. The whole experience was tinted with inexperience, from the way he kissed you to the actual sex. Every move he made had been incredibly hesitant, and as though he were trying to remember some sort of instructions. And now you feel a bit like a jerk. You may not be the most experienced person in the world, but all the signs pointed to him having never had sex before and you ignored them and rushed in without even talking to him about it…. Except he started it, and was the one who offered…. And now your brain is a mess of confusion and you're even more uncertain of what you're going to say to him when you get back in there.

 

A few moments into your internal debate, Barnaby's door opens and a man in a white lab coat steps out. He looks at you and Wild Tiger and nods. He starts to turn away, but turns back, looking as though he's just remembered something.

 

“Miss *name*?” 

 

You stand quickly and nod yes.

 

“Mr. Brooks asked me to send you in if you were back,” he smiles, “he's tired, so try and make him rest. His body's been through a lot.”

 

You nod again and quickly slip into the room. Barnaby looks like he might be sleeping, but his eyes shoot open when the door clicks shut. He squints at you, glasses placed on his bed side, and you think that maybe he looks a little relieved that you came back. He gropes for his glasses and places them on his face when he finds them. 

 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” you ask, feeling a bit dumb, but not knowing what else to say.

 

“A little better, less sore,” he gently rubs at his stomach where you know only hours before were staples holding him together.

 

“Good, I'm glad.” 

 

You feel so awkward. Not an hour earlier you were so happy just be in the same room as this man and now you didn't even know where to direct your gaze. Neither of you is looking at the other, and it seems that neither of you know what to say. Suddenly, from out in the hall you hear an alarm and Wild Tiger pokes his head into the room.

 

“I know you're mad at me, but there's been a bank robbery, so I'm gonna go,” the older hero states. “You two should stop acting like little kids and talk. If you're mature enough to have sex, you should be mature enough to talk about it.” And with those words of wisdom he's gone.

 

You close your eyes and sigh. You know he's right. And to be honest, there's far more than sex that needs to be discussed. But maybe that's where to start.

 

Surprisingly Barnaby pats the bed beside him for you to sit. You sit facing him, one leg under you and the other hanging off the bed. He seems relieved just to have you at arm's reach again. He takes your hands in his and settles back against the bed.

 

“I'm sorry,” you start, “I was just joking around, I didn't realize he would react like that.”

 

“It's not your fault he's an idiot,” Barnaby replies. “And I don't want you to think I'm ashamed or regret anything. I don't. I always think things through before I do something, and that was no different. I was just taken aback by the way Tiger reacted. I don't have any experience with any of this and I feel like I'm at an incredible disadvantage. It's like going into a fight without having scoped out your surroundings and planning your best attack options. Only there's really no way to do that kind of recon, because no matter how much you plan or scrutinize, in the end it's not a tactical operation, not something I have logged thousands of practice hours in simulations for. It's new and a little mystifying, and, trying to figure out what to do next to make you like me more or make you more interested in me is like the most intense game of chess I've ever played. The worst part is that I think you actually respond better to things I don't plan, things that just happen, and that terrifies me. Just ask Tiger, I'm terrible at going with the flow.”

 

You're a little stunned at the confession. After all he's marketed as a playboy sex pot, and while the Barnaby you've come to know is  _  nothing _ like the one you imagined, you hadn't considered that this was his first foray into romance ever. Even with the revelation that he  _ might _ have been a virgin up until the other day, you thought there  _ must _ have been others. Even if everything you've learned about him up until this point has pointed other wise. But in reality none of that matters. You don't belong in his world. 

 

You figure honesty is your best bet.

 

“I don't have a whole lot of experience either,” you sigh and slide your eyes closed before leveling your gaze on him, “The last  _ real _ relationship I had ended when we graduated high school and went to different colleges. Since then I've just kind of avoided getting attached to anyone. I didn't do it on purpose, but with school and then work, I just didn't make the kinds of connections I thought would lead to more. Then my law firm moved to Sternbild and it just gave me a reason to isolate myself more. I didn't know anyone, and I'm a creature of habit, so I just did what I had to and that was it. Then you showed up. And suddenly being alone all the time wasn't okay anymore, but, if I'm completely honest, the idea that I might  _ need  _ you scares me. You're not a normal guy. I don't mean because you have NEXT powers, I mean, you're a celebrity with an image to maintain and a hero with a job that puts your life on the line all the time, and I'm just, me. I'm nobody. I'm a Sternbild transplant with a dead end job and a cheap apartment in the Bronze Stage. I don't drink fancy wine or have an appreciation for opera and if I told anyone back home I was dating you they would think I was delusional. I don't want to be something that holds you back. I keep thinking that if I can get a little more from you I'll saite my desires and I'll be ready for when you're done with me, but being with you makes me hate the idea that you might wake up one day and realize I'm not good enough.” 

 

He looks terrified and you think maybe he's just realized that you  _ aren't  _ good enough. It isn't until he's letting go of your hands and holding your cheeks in his palms, wiping away tears from your eyes, that you even realized you were crying. 

 

“I have never  _ once _ thought you weren't good enough,” he states as he presses his forehead against yours, “and if anyone ever says you aren't, they have no idea what they're talking about. Being with you is one of the most grounding and stabilizing things I've ever had. I've spent so much of my life angry and bitter and wanting to be loved and cared for that I ended up pushing almost everyone who tried to fill those roles away. Wild Tiger made me realize that just because I lost once, it doesn't mean I have to be alone forever. Meeting you made me remember that I'm  _ not _ the image that I've cultivated, that's as much of a persona as Blue Rose or Origami Cyclone. If you need me, I need you just as much.”

 

When you finally open your eyes you realize he's crying too. Your heart clenches, and you want him to know how much he means to you, but you just don't have the words to express it. So, you do the only thing you can think of and close the gap between your lips. 

 

The kiss is raw and sloppy and so full of unspoken emotions and need. It's your heart and soul poured into one physical expression of love. He pulls you closer, dragging you onto the hospital bed, because he needs you as much as you need him. You straddle his hips and run your fingers through his hair as he deepens the kiss. His tongue twines with yours, fighting for dominance, none of the hesitance from Thursday night. 

 

It isn't until he winces in pain that you realize that maybe this isn't the time and place to be giving into carnal passion. You apologize and start to move away, but his grip on you is firm, holding you in his lap as he rests his head on your chest. You hear him mumble something, but you can't make it out, until he looks up at you and repeats those three little words that send your whole world into a spiral of joy.

 

“I love you, too,” you whisper, like a prayer, silent and hopeful.

 

After that he makes room for you on the bed next to him, of course on the side without an IV drip. You settle beside him, head on his shoulder, hand settled over his heart. The two of you don't speak, you just exist together in the midst of everything you've said. It's calm and soothing. The hand he has running through your hair slows as his breathing evens out and you can feel the steady thrum of his heart slow slightly as he drifts off into sleep. You close your eyes as well and drift off into a dreamless sleep.

 

***************

 

Your awoken by the the deep rumble of the chest you're using as a pillow. You don't really hear what he's saying, you just feel the vibrations against you and nuzzle into the sensation. Then you hear a familiar chuckle and you force an eye open to look at the person interrupting your nap.

 

Wild Tiger has pulled up a chair to Barnaby's bedside and has his feet propped up by Barnaby's knees. He's got the chair pushed back onto two feet and you're pretty sure you could tip him over with a single push of his feet. 

 

You sit up, yawning and stretching as you go. You note that it is now early evening, judging by where the sun is sitting just at the edge of the horizon, and the deep orange glow that outlines the older hero.

 

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Tiger greets you with a grin. 

 

You blink at him for a moment before turning to Barnaby, placing a kiss on his cheek, and then grabbing your overnight bag and heading to the bathroom. You can hear them talk as you strip down and take advantage of the giant shower in the VIP bathroom. It doesn't take you long to shower, change, and brush your teeth, and soon enough you're walking back out into the room barefoot and drying your hair with a towel. 

 

By this time, Barnaby has moved the bed into a sitting position and he and Tiger are talking about something to do with the bank robbery. You grab your hair brush and run it through your wet locks as you look out the window at the city. It's the same skyline you can see from Barnaby's apartment, but at a different angle, and the similarity makes you smile.

 

“So *name*, you wanna watch him heal himself?” Tiger pulls you from your thoughts with the question.

 

“Can I?” you ask, a little in awe at the idea.

 

You turn and give them your full attention at the idea.

 

“Sure, why not?” Barnaby shrugs.

 

“I'll go get the doctor,” Wild Tiger carefully stands, doing his best not to send himself sprawling backwards, and heads out the door. 

 

“Does it hurt?” you find yourself asking as you cross the room to replace your brush in your bag.

 

“No, it's not the most pleasant feeling, but there's no pain,” Barnaby replies. 

 

The door opens and in walks a man in a white lab coat, a nurse and Wild Tiger. The doctor checks Barnaby's chart while the nurse takes out his IV line and removes the bandages from his chest. Wild Tiger stands behind you while you watch in fascination. The doctor mumbles something and Barnaby nods before both doctor and nurse step back from the bed. 

 

Once everyone has backed off Barnaby starts to glow blue. A whirlwind of power swirls around him causing his hair to flutter and the blankets to shift. The pin pricks on his arm close up instantly and several of the staples from his abdomen fall into his lap. What you're guessing are the deeper wounds start to seal, but don't totally close before the blue light fades and he’s panting and sagging back into the bed. 

 

The doctor and nurse approach the bed again and the doctor checks the incision on his abdomen. When he gives the all clear the nurse goes ahead and rebandages the wound before starting a fresh IV line. After taking his vitals the pair leave.

 

You're a little awe struck. You're not sure if it's because of the healing or because you've never actually seen Barnaby activate his powers outside of his suit. Either way you know you're staring, but you just can't look away. Tiger gives you a little push and you stumble forward, but regain your balance and make your way to the bed. 

 

Barnaby just looks tired. You would never know that he just woke up from a nap. The bags under his eyes are darker than before and he still hasn't gotten his breathing under control. You feel his forehead and caress his stubbly cheek with your hand. He's warm, but not feverish, and you're glad for that. 

 

He slides one green eye open and tries to sit up, but ends up on one elbow clutching his stomach. Tiger jumps up and repositions the bed. In a moment he's sitting up and his breathing has pretty much returned to normal.

 

“How are ya feelin’ Little Bunny?” Tiger asks over your shoulder.

 

“I forgot how hard it is to do this over and over again,” he responds with a pained look.

 

Tiger laughs, “I told you a few weeks r&r and some time in Saito’s tank would have been better.”

 

“Heh, like I would be able to let you loose for a month on your own. There probably wouldn't be a city to come back to,” Barnaby’s comment lacks its usual bite, but Tiger looks indignant all the same.

 

“Have you eaten today?” you ask without thinking. 

 

“You're always asking me that,” Barnaby smirks in reply, “and no, there was a little too much going on.”

 

Tiger frowns.

 

“Bunny…”

 

“I don't want to hear your lecture, Mr. doughnuts for two meals a day and fried rice 5 times a week.”

 

“Would you like me to get you something? I can try to sneak in contraband,” you offer with a grin.

 

“Hmm….” he rubs his stubbly chin for a moment in thought, “I could really go for Beef Stroganoff from that sketchy diner you like by your apartment. Oh, and some of those matcha cream cookies they have at the organic grocery store.” 

 

“Yes sir Mr. Brooks!” you salute before grabbing your purse and slipping on your shoes.

 

You're hand is on the door knob when Tiger pipes up.

 

“Wait, is it  _ the  _ grocery store?” 

 

You and Barnaby exchange a look before replying in unison, “yes”.

 

“Then I'm coming too!” Tiger adjusts his hat on his head and then moves to follow you.

 

“Um, you don't have to. I'm pretty sure she knows where she's going,” Barnaby tries to save you from what is bound to turn into more of an adventure than your initial plans, but Tiger seems determined to see  _ the  _ grocery store.

 

“No way am I missing out on checking out the place you guys met! Maybe I'll find someone for Rock Bison there,” he replies with a wink to you.

 

You sigh. Well, looks like like you have a travel companion. You wave to the bedridden blonde as you, followed by Tiger, exit. 

 

You and Tiger chat as you drive down to the Silver Stage. He's in good spirits and you're so high on life right now that the conversation is cheerful and, thankfully, not about you and Barnaby.

 

When you reach the store, you park in your normal spot and the two of you head in. Tiger is far more excited than is probably necessary, but over the last couple of days you've come to expect this. Once you enter the store he immediately starts touching things and you're a little worried that he might break something.

 

“Miss *name*, this isn't shopping day,” the store clerk says as you walk past the check out to the cracker and cookies aisle.

 

“Just needed to pick up a few things,” you give him a smile as you walk past.

 

“Huh,” Wild Tiger hums as the two of you look at the wide selection of treats on display, “this place is pretty nice. A little more normal than I had expected.”

 

“What had you expected?” you ask as you locate the requested cookies and grab two packages, just in case.

 

“Well, Bunny's a little high maintenance, so I guess I thought it would be fancier or at least more expensive,” he replies as he picks out a couple of packages of cookies for himself.

 

You can't help but huff a laugh at that.

 

Next, you head over to the dairy fridge and grab a pint of 2% milk before the two of you head to the check out. The clerk gives you an odd look, but doesn't say anything as he rings up your items. Wild Tiger places his on the counter as well and insists on paying for the whole lot. You try to resist, but he practically shoves you out of the way to pay. The clerk gives you another look. You just shrug your shoulders and collect your things.

 

“I want to stop at home real quick,” you tell Tiger as you both buckle into your car, “I want to grab a couple of things and we can call in our order to the restaurant for pick up.”

 

“Alright, you're in charge,” he responds with a grin.

 

You're a  _ little _ nervous about taking him to your apartment. After all you don't live anywhere fancy and you haven't even let  _ Barnaby  _ see it yet. However, you know you have extra disposable razors and toothbrushes and you're sure Barnaby would appreciate both. Besides, you doubt Wild Tiger will judge you too badly based on your location, he doesn't seem the type.

 

“Wait, you live here?” he asks when you pull into the parking garage and take your assigned spot.

 

“Um, yeah, it's been like 2 years now.” you both unbuckle and exit your vehicle and start walking to the entrance of the building.

 

“Which floor?” 

 

“4th,”

 

“No way!” he exclaims, “Me too! We're neighbors!”

 

You stop and look at him wide eyed.

 

“Seriously?” 

 

“Seriously! Bunny's never going to believe it!” 

 

Who would have thought the slob widower (your land lady’s words) next door was Wild Tiger? No wonder you had  never actually seen the man.

 

The two of you make your way to your door and once inside, Wild Tiger notes that your apartment is basically a mirror image of his own, with nicer furniture. He flops down on your couch with the diner’s take out menu, while you go about grabbing things you think Barnaby might need. 

 

You pack a disposable razor (you use ‘men’s’ razors anyway because they're cheaper), shaving cream (also marketed as ‘manly’ since it has Sky High on the can), a toothbrush (dentist freebie), and some travel size shampoos and conditioners (stolen from hotels). You look at your curling iron and contemplate adding it to the bag, after all yours isn't  _ that  _ different from his. You add it as well as your cans of mousse and hairspray.

 

When you're finished you find Tiger calling the restaurant to place your order. You tell him to get you a cheeseburger and bacon jalapeno fries, while you look for one of the insulated bags you got from your favorite pizza joint. Once the bag is found, and Tiger is finished, he grabs the large duffle bag, which is far bigger than necessary, and the two of you are off again. 

 

You pick up the food, placing it in the insulated bag and then tucking that into the oversized duffle along with the cookies and milk. It fits perfectly, and as long as security doesn't search you,  you'll have no problems getting it in the hospital.

 

Once back to the hospital you both walk past the nurses’ station with no problem. You take the elevator to the VIP floor and hit the security station. Tiger flashes his Apollon Media badge and has no problems, you however are not so lucky. The guard isn't one of the ones you've already dealt with and he insists on IDing you and doing a pat down. Thankfully Tiger is holding the bag full of contraband, because even after your pat down they insist on checking your purse too. The guard looks a little miffed that you weren't carrying anything he could confiscate, but  _ finally  _ lets you through. You breathe a sigh of relief when you're finally released.

 

Once back in Barnaby's room you and Tiger break into a fit of relieved giggles which Barnaby raises an eyebrow to. Tiger tells him the harrowing tale of your security pat down as you busy yourself with pulling out food. In minutes the three of you are chowing down on delicious, greasy diner food.

 

Barnaby eats like he hasn't seen food in weeks. It's a far cry from his normal refined way of eating and it makes you a little nervous that he might choke. Tiger keeps a running commentary while he eats. It's mostly a lecture on why you shouldn't skip meals, and you're certain it's mostly a scolding for Barnaby, but can't help but feel a bit like he knows about your bad coffee for lunch habit.

 

After you all finish, Tiger wraps up the trash in a bag and makes a subtle escape for the trashcan in the waiting room. After all, outside food is allowed there.

 

While Tiger is hiding the evidence you show Barnaby the things you brought for him. He looks skeptical at the non electric toothbrush and razor, but he thanks you for them anyway. After all, he’s going to be released tomorrow morning and he doesn't want anyone to catch him with 3 days worth of beard growth. It would ruin his hairless image.

 

The rest of the evening is spent watching cheesy game shows and discussing the upcoming week. Apparently the pair were supposed to have a ton of interviews and photoshoots this week, but due to Barnaby's injury several of the photo shoots were canceled for fear that he wouldn't be able to pose shirtless. Tiger seems to be totally clueless to the fact that anything had been planned at all, and really doesn't seem at all upset at not having to watch Barnaby pose for the cameras. 

 

Around 10:30pm a nurse stops in to check up on Barnaby and recommends that he go to bed. Tiger promises her that he'll make  _ sure  _ his partner is out by eleven before practically shoving her out the door. 

 

“Alright kiddos, it's bedtime!” he exclaims with a clap of his hands. 

 

You and Barnaby exchange a look before the blonde rolls his eyes.

 

“Fine,” Barnaby responds with a sigh, “I suppose if we want to be out of here before noon tomorrow you're right.”

 

“Exactly, and you,” Tiger points at you, “You're sleeping in the other bed tonight. I don't want any complaints, young lady! You're going to catch a cold sleeping in a chair like that!”

 

You blink at him for a moment before nodding in the affirmative. He looks quite satisfied with himself. Two of Papa Tiger’s kids are actually doing what he tells them to for once. 

 

“All right, now that that's settled, I'm going to go get a blanket,” the older hero announces before marching out of the room. 

 

Barnaby just laughs and shakes his head as you watch him go.

 

“That was subtle,” the blonde sighs as he leans back in bed.

 

“What was subtle?” you ask, worried you missed something.

 

“He’s purposely leaving us alone so that we can say good night.”

 

“Ah, I see,” you respond with an understanding nod. 

 

The two of you just sit quietly for a long moment. Barnaby looks like he's already half asleep, and your limbs feel so heavy that the idea of getting up sounds impossible. But, you’re pretty sure that if you don't move on your own you're going to wake up to Wild Tiger moving you, and you're not quite sure you trust him not to drop you. That thought is enough to will your limbs to function, and you push yourself out of the chair by Barnaby's bedside. 

 

First thing's first, you nuzzle your nose against Barnaby's fuzzy cheek, finding the prickly feeling oddly satisfying. He's awake enough to find your lips with his own, and give you a lazy, sloppy good night kiss. Once you part you drag yourself over to the other bed, flopping down on your stomach and groaning. 

 

“You alright?” Barnaby asks, cracking an eye open to look at you.

 

“Fine, too tired,” is your muffled answer.

 

He huffs a laugh before snuggling further down into his bed.

 

You manage to struggle your way under the covers and curl up facing Barnaby's bed. You wish you were curled up next to him, especially since he's warm and the hospital bed sheets are cold and starchy. Fortunately, you're too tired to be too upset and you find yourself drifting off pretty quickly. The last thing you remember is Tiger coming back and adjusting both of your blankets before crawling into the recliner himself.

 

***************

 

The next morning is a whirlwind of excitement. The nurse comes in at 7am, waking you and Barnaby, but not Tiger. She removes Barnaby's bandages and IV and he heals again. Moments later he's out of bed, pretty much injury free. She leaves and you're dragged into the large hospital shower for celebratory good morning almost sex (neither of you thought to bring condoms to the hospital). You can't say you mind. 

 

Once you're both showered you sit on the counter and watch him go about shaving his face and fixing his hair. You've never seen a man as fussy about his appearance as Barnaby. It takes him 20 minutes to shave, and he complains about the cheap razor. Then he blow drys his hair, practically straight, before taking your  curling iron to it. You watch in fascination as he goes from Barnaby to _The_ _Barnaby._

 

“Do you have a makeup case by chance?” he asks as he sprays his hair down with your cheap hairspray.

 

You nod and hop off the counter to go grab it. As you enter the room, Wild Tiger is stretching and yawning like he just woke up, and he gives you a cheesy grin. You smile back before rummaging through your Fire Emblem bag for your overstuffed makeup case. Once the ridiculously full bag is in your grasp you return to the bathroom and hop back up on the counter.

 

Barnaby looks at the bag like it might bite him. After all, his own cosmetics bag is a neatly organized, small ordeal, and yours is an overflowing mess of everything you've thought, “that looks neat" over the last year. At least you throw everything out and start over every December so there's nothing scary in there. 

 

The moment he opens the bag, there's stuff everywhere. It just pops out. You stifle a laugh at the frown he directs at the bag as he goes through it. You're pretty sure none of your concealer and foundations are going to work, but he seems to find something he thinks is passable. He pulls out primer, eyeliner and mascara and then turns to you again.

 

“Do you not have moisturizer?” he asks with a cocked eyebrow.

 

You hop down again and go back to your Fire Emblem bag. Wild Tiger is watching the morning news.

 

“What are you guys doing in there?” he asks as you rummage through your bag again.

 

“Making Barnaby pretty,” you reply as you find your bottle of lotion and quickly make your way back to the counter.

 

Barnaby scrutinizes the bottle. You know it's not the $300 bottle of morning face cream he usually uses, but beggars can't be choosers. He sighs and pulls his glasses off to start on his face. Moisturizer first, then primer, the foundation he decided was close enough, concealer (also close enough), the man even contours (something you've purchased the materials for but normally avoid). He sharpens a light brown eyeliner pencil and of course manages a perfect line with the flick of his wrist. Mascara is applied to already too long lashes and he finishes with powder. 

 

You're a bit in awe at the whole thing. Friday morning you didn't get the chance to see him actually put himself together, you were nearly late for work just taking a shower together. So, watching him actually put on his face is more than a little enthralling, especially since your own makeup abilities are a little lacking. You know you're staring, especially when your eyes meet in the mirror, but you can't help yourself. 

 

Once his glasses are back on his face and everything is packed back up, the two of you exit the bathroom only to be shoved out of the way by Wild Tiger who  _ really _ has to pee. Everything you brought gets packed up and the Fire Emblem bag gets stuffed into the humongous bag you snuck last night’s dinner in with. By the time Tiger comes back out, the two of you are ready to leave. 

 

Tiger shoulders your bag and the three of you make your way out of the hospital. The moment Barnaby steps outside the building he's swarmed by reporters. He instantly shifts from the snarky, smart ass you've grown to love into the smooth talking, crowd pleaser you still aren't fond of. The fake smile makes you roll your eyes and you signal to Tiger that you're going to go get the car before you draw attention to yourself. A few moments later you're parked on the curb and the guys politely excuse themselves and join you in the car. Not 20 minutes later the three of you are sitting in Barnaby's apartment.

 

The rest of the day is spent watching TV and arguing on where lunch and dinner are going to come from. Around 8PM Tiger heads out, saying he wants to have an early day tomorrow, to which Barnaby rolls his eyes but doesn't argue, and then you're alone.

 

You're staring out the huge window overlooking Sternbild when Barnaby wraps his arms around your waist. You sigh as he nuzzles his nose against your neck and lays butterfly kisses where neck meets shoulder. You turn to him and wrap your arms around his neck, twining your fingers in his hair and pulling him into a deep kiss. His hands are all over you, like he can't get enough, and his tongue is dancing with yours. You can't get enough of him; his taste, his smell, his presence. You want all of him and  _ now. _

 

He breaks the kiss, but his lips barely leave your skin as he speaks.

 

“Can you stay?” he asks between nips and licks.

 

“I have work clothes,” you sigh as he nibbles at a sensitive spot on your neck.

 

“We should get ready for bed,” he says as he pulls away.

 

You pout at the loss of contact, but he's quick to give you an apologetic peck on the lips as he pulls away.

 

He sends you to the bathroom first, claiming he needs a glass of milk before bed anyway. You wash your face and brush your teeth before debating whether or not to put on the shorts and tank top you had brought to sleep in. You decide to at least start clothed, if only to not look too eager. With one last check of your hair, you head out to the bedroom and grab the pink stuffed bunny before flopping back onto the bed. 

 

Barnaby swoops into the bathroom a moment later. He takes  _ forever.  _ You roll around on the bed a bit, striking poses, talking to the stuffed bunny and basically getting nervous for no reason. After about ten minutes you put the bunny back in its proper place at the foot of the bed and look at yourself in the mirror by the closet. You fluff your hair, check your teeth, and fix your boobs in your shirt. And he's still in the freaking bathroom. Finally, you flop back on the bed and stare at the bathroom door, upside down, willing it to open.

 

You're starting to worry that there's too much blood rushing to your head when the bathroom door  _ finally _ opens. Barnaby steps out; clean faced, hair pulled back, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs. He crosses to the bed and sits down next to you. 

 

You roll over and sit up. You push him onto his back and quickly examine his abdomen. The only lasting evidence of his hospitalization is a long thin scar from under his ribs to his bellybutton. It's almost unnoticeable, and if you hadn't seen the incision yesterday you probably wouldn't have even noticed it was there. You run a tentative hand down his skin.

 

“I'm fine,” he says, pulling you down beside him.

 

You nod. 

 

“Do you need proof?”

 

You nod again.

 

Not even a beat later he’s on you. His lips are on yours and his hand is sliding up your shirt. You're both impatient and desperate and beyond needy. 

 

The two of you spend a majority of the night locked in each other's embrace and talking. You decide that the Thursday ritual stands, after all, he has a standing free evening with Apollon on Thursdays. The two of you also decide that you're going to alternate between your apartments for the weekends. You try not to get carried away with talk of the future, but every once and awhile there's a slip, he’ll mention kids or you'll mention a road trip, and the conversation will slow for a moment. But only a moment, and then things are back into full swing. It's nearly 3AM by the time the two of you slip into sleep.

 

*****************

 

From then on out things normal out again. The two of you settle back into your new routine and the first few weeks are great. Then the nightmares start. He doesn't say anything, but he often starts awake at night, waking you. You try to comfort him, but he's often inconsolable, and prone to panic attacks. You feel a bit like he's pulling away and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

 

Then he disappears.

 

The second week in December he misses Thursday's shopping day. You call and text him but he never responds. You aren't too panicked, but you're worried. After 2 days of no contact you call Wild Tiger, he says he also hasn't seen him in a couple of days and he's just as worried. He promises to find ‘your man’ before he hangs up. 

 

You try Barnaby’s phone again, but the person who answers is most definitely  _ not _ Barnaby.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Um, is Barnaby there?” you ask, voice laden with surprise.

 

“I'm afraid Barnaby is unable to come to the phone, may I take a message?”

 

“Um, yeah, tell him Thursday night missed him,” you respond, a little down trodden.

 

The phone disconnects and you sigh. Well, that was something at least.

 

Then the next morning, you turn on the television and see Wild Tiger's face plastered all over the news. Murder? There's no way in Hell he killed anyone. And isn't that woman, Samantha, isn't that the woman that raised Barnaby? What the hell is going on? 

 

You're in tears as you watch Wild Tiger trying desperately to convince the other heroes that he is who you know he is. And just when you think all hope is lost, a young girl shows up, and in a flash of blue light realization dawns on the heroes. Everything seems to be falling back into place, that is until Barnaby shows up. You're crying again, begging Barnaby to remember. Hoping against hope that he'll just suddenly snap out of it and go back to the man you fell in love with. And then Tiger calls him Bunny and it's like a switch flips and he's back.

 

After that HeroTV goes off the air, but you're hopeful that things will get worked out. The whole story comes out over the next couple of weeks. All the betrayal and heartbreak nearly kills you, but you're glad that Barnaby can  _ finally _ be his own person. You try to contact him, but he doesn't answer.

 

You're surprised to hear that Wild Tiger and Barnaby are retiring. You're not quite sure what to make of that. You try again to contact him, but nothing comes of it. Tiger must have changed his number, since you can't get ahold of him either. You try both apartments, but neither man is ever home. 

 

By the middle of January you've given up. You can't watch anymore retirement interviews, with either man, without breaking into tears. You delete his number from your phone and try to go back to your normal routine. 

 

You find you're lonely, so you adopt a small shelter dog with plenty of blonde curls and big hazel eyes. You avoid naming him Barnaby Brooks the Pupper and choose something a little less embarrassing. 

 

It's at your first trip to the dog park that you run into Sky High. John and Handsome seem to get along really well and Keith insists that the two of you should have play dates. You trade numbers and become fast friends. 

 

You ask him about Barnaby, but he doesn't have any more information than you do. He tells you that since the Maverick incident that he and the other heroes have only seen the pair twice, and the conversation tended to lean to the lighter side. You don't push it, and you decide that maybe it's just time you give up.

 

***************

 

Wild Tiger slumps back against the row of lockers in the Apollon Media dressing room and can't help the groan that escapes him. It's been a long month. He and Barnaby had been in constant interviews since they announced their retirement from the hero business. He should have known that retiring with Barnaby was going to be just as tiring as being at the top with Barnaby. Luckily they didn't have to go out on calls anymore, but their interview schedule had increased dramatically.

 

Barnaby enters the room, pulling Tiger from his thoughts. The blonde doesn't look tired at all. In fact he frowns at how exhausted Tiger looks, before fluffing his hair and double checking his suit.

 

“You're looking quite chipper, Little Bunny,” Tiger sighs.

 

“Well, today's interviews are the end of our retirement announcement contract. I, personally, am looking forward to some down time,” Barnaby responds with a final look in the mirror.

 

“I bet *your name* will be happy to finally have you all to herself.”

 

“Who?” Barnaby rounds on Tiger, confusion and shock on his face.

 

“*name*? You know, your girlfriend?” 

 

Barnaby looks beyond confused. His brow crinkles as he tries to sort out his thoughts and a hand comes to his temple to rub soothing circles. 

 

“She was real,” he sounds angry, and Tiger’s a little concerned, “Do you have any proof?”

 

“Of course, Bunny, she held my hand for 4 hours while we waited for you to get out of surgery. Hell, she lives right down the hall from me. You really don't remember her?”

 

“I, well, I remember her, but I wasn't sure I could trust myself,” Barnaby responds.

 

Suddenly a determined look crosses over his face and he's stripping out of the red and black suit he was wearing. In moments he's changed and running out the door.

 

“I have to go!” he yells on his way out, slamming the door behind him.

 

Tiger laughs a little as he settles back against the lockers. 

 

“Young love.”

 

*************

 

It's a cold February day and you thank your lucky stars that it hadn't snowed like the weather forecast had said it would. You're just getting back from hanging out at the dog park with Keith, and Handsome’s paws feel like little icicles. You're holding him in your coat, trying to warm him up, as you enter your apartment  building. When you reach your floor he starts to struggle to get away from you. He manages to wiggle free and he bolts down the hall, barking all the way. You chase after him and once you turn the corner you're shocked by what you see.

 

Handsome has a tall blonde man pinned to your apartment door. The blonde has his hands out trying to keep the small dog at bay while Handsome growls and barks. You rush up and grab the small dog, who keeps barking, and manage to quickly stuff him in your apartment. 

 

“I’m so sorry!” you say as you manage to close the pup in, “He’s not normally like that!”

 

You turn to the man to formally apologize and your heart drops in your chest. Your eyes go wide and you can't breathe. It feels as though someone has just knocked the wind out of you. Tears well up in your eyes and you feel them slip down your cheeks, but you're so stunned that there's nothing you can do.

 

He reaches out for you, but you brush his hand way rather roughly. He looks pained at the gesture, but you know that if he touches you, you won't be able to say no to him. And you definitely want to keep your head on straight right now. 

 

He looks different; different jacket, different shirt, different shoes, even his hair is shorter. But there's no denying who he is, and there's no denying that he's there to see you. 

 

“*Your name*, I don't know what to say,” he starts.

 

You don't respond. After all what is there to say? He distanced himself from you and then disappeared, and now, just when you're starting to feel okay without him he's back at your doorstep. You want to turn away and go inside, but part of you wants to pull him in and tell him it's okay. You still love him, and that feels like dangerous territory.

 

“I-I m-missed you,” he finally stammers out and you can feel your resolve crumbling away.

 

“You abandoned me,” you whisper. 

 

“I didn't mean to,” he sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair. 

 

He obviously doesn't have a clue what to say and neither do you. You want him to apologize, beg for your forgiveness, but you expect him to say his piece and then walk away. You expect him to tell you that things could never work between you, that your worlds are too different, and that he felt he needed closure. 

 

“I had a whole speech planned out,” he starts again, rubbing the back of his neck, “but it doesn't seem right now.”

 

He takes a deep breath before he continues.

 

“I, I thought that, maybe, Maverick had created you. I thought that maybe he had made you up and planted you in my head to try and keep me under control. Especially since I  _ know _ that there's one memory of you that he made up. So, I thought that maybe he had made up the whole thing. But then Kotetsu asked me about you today. He said he knew you and that made me realize how wrong I had been. I ran down here as quickly as I could, but you weren't here, so I waited.”

 

When he finishes his eyes meet yours and the sincerity and fear you see burns. A fresh wave of tears floods and you try to hold them back, but it's impossible. They stream down your cheeks and no amount of wiping can do away with them. You're ugly crying now and he looks incredibly guilty. 

 

You don't resist this time as he pulls you to his chest, wrapping you tightly in his arms. Your hands grip into the leather of his jacket and you just sob. He apologizes over and over, kissing your hair and forehead and running his hands up and down your back. 

 

When your sobs calm from body wracking to sniffles and trembles you pull back. He has tears sliding down his cheeks too, and it's nearly enough to break you again, but before the tears come his lips are on yours. It's a soft kiss, sweet and meaningful, that starts to tug the shards of your broken heart back together. When the kiss breaks he presses his forehead to yours and sniffles.

 

“I'm so sorry,” he whispers, “I never meant to hurt you, and, if you're willing to give me another chance, I would like to try and spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

 

You search his face for a moment. All you can see is love and sincerity. The tears come back, but this time they're happy and full of joy, and you can't help the smile that breaks across your face.

 

“I would love that,” you manage before kissing him again.

 

You don't know how long you've been standing in the hallway kissing his stupidly pretty face when Wild Tiger whistles as he walks past. The kiss breaks, and suddenly you're both red faced and a little embarrassed to have been caught, but he doesn't let you go and that feels better than anything. 

 

“I see you've made up,” Tiger drawls as he unlocks his apartment door. 

 

“This is partially your fault, you know,” you respond from your place in Barnaby's arms, “if you'd given me your new number we could have made up weeks ago.”

 

Tiger blinks at you for a moment before pulling his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through it. Then he approaches and shows you a text message dated January 3rd, with your number as the recipient. You look at it for a second before poking the message bubble and noticing that it says “failed to send" in red. You turn the phone back to Tiger who looks shocked before giving you a sheepish smile.

 

“Whoops,” he laughs, “I tried?”

 

You bury your face in Barnaby's chest as the blonde just shakes his head. 

 

“Either way you two should get a room,” the older man laughs as he walks away, “I would hate for Bunny's first act as a civilian to be being arrested for public indecency.” 

 

You pull away from the blonde, shaking your head, to open your apartment door. Instantly Handsome is pawing at you to be picked up. You snatch up the small dog and gesture for Barnaby to follow you inside. He takes a look around before approaching you and your tiny friend. Handsome growls as Barnaby offers his hand, but, with a bit of scolding, the dog allows the man to pet him.

 

“He’s new,” Barnaby says as he strokes the small dog’s blonde curls.

 

“He’s your replacement,” you respond with a laugh.

 

Barnaby frowns. He puts his hands on his slim hips and pouts a bit.

 

“And how did he do?” he asks, a little indignant at being replaced.

 

“He’s a good cuddler, but a terrible kisser.”

Barnaby huffs a laugh before he takes Handsome from you and places him gently on the ground. He then wraps his arms back around you, holding you tightly to him.

 

“I really am sorry,” he says against your hair.

 

“I'm keeping the dog,” you reply.

 

He laughs, but doesn't argue. Instead he tilts your chin up and presses a kiss firmly to your lips. As he tries to deepen the kiss you pull away. You still have questions.

 

“What memory did he make of me?” 

 

Barnaby frowns at the question and turns away from you, suddenly finding the fabric of the couch really interesting. You're not sure he's going to answer when he finally speaks.

 

“You came to me at his vacation home one night. We all had dinner together and then we went up to my room and…” he trails off, but you get the idea. 

 

When he turns to look at you again the frown on his face has deepened and he looks more upset than you've ever seen him.

 

“You told me that all I was good for was sex and then you left.” 

 

You're quite shocked at that. You would  _ never  _ say something like that. You can't stop yourself from hugging him. 

 

“I have never thought that!” you say, holding him close.

 

“I know, and I know it wasn't real. Just like I know the other memories he messed with aren't right. But, it  _ was  _ enough to make me question everything I thought I knew about us. I was worried I had fallen in love with a figment of Maverick’s sick imagination.”

 

You can't believe how much he's been through in the last couple of months. The idea that you were used in such a way makes you sick to your stomach. How could someone be so cruel? You're angry and upset and you kind of want to spoil him rotten to make up for it. 

 

“Have you eaten?” the question leaves your lips before you can stop it.

 

He laughs, a real, genuine laugh.

 

“Not since noon,” he responds with a soft smile.

 

“Perfect, I'll make dinner, if you have time, I mean.”

 

“I'm retired now. I've got all the time in the world.”

 

You give him a grin and separate to start on dinner. While you cook he’s never more than a few steps from you, plus he scolds you for giving Handsome a few bites of meat, and you realize that this is the happiest you've ever been. You know that there's things you'll have to work on and that your fledgling relationship will be far from perfect, but, right now, in this moment, you feel perfectly complete.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I want to write a bunch of these. I originally was JUST going to do one for Sky High (Keith Goodman) because he's my favorite, but then this idea just kind of popped into my head and I couldn't stop once I got started. SO, here is the first installment. Barnaby Brooks Jr. x Reader. Don't worry, I actually believe that Barnaby is probably a Kotetsu-sexual, but I thought this was funny.... also, why not? 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S. This is also my return to fanfiction after like 3 or 4 years of silence so, please be kind. <3


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